RANG 


BRANSFORD  OF 
RAINBOW  RANGE 


THE  HORSES  WERE  TTNWILLING  TO  F.NTKR  THE  CIRCLE  OF 

FTRKI.K;H  r  Page  181 


Originally  Published  under  tht  title  of 

BRANSFORD    IN    ARCADIA 
OR,  THE    LITTLE    EOHIPPUS 


BY 

EUGENE  MANLOVE  RHODES 


AUTHOR  OF 

THE  DESIRE  OF  THE  MOTH, 
GOOD  MEN  AND  TRUE,  WEST  IS  WEST,  ETC. 


FRONTISPIBCE  BY 

HARVEY  T.  DUNN 


GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  NEW    YORK 


M*de  in  the  United  Stale*  of  Anwic* 


Copyright,  1913.  by 
CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

Copyright,  1914,  by 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

Copyright,  1920,  by 
THE  H.  K.  FLY  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 

MH 

PROLOGUE       .........  i 

THE  PITCHER  THAT  WENT  TO  THE  WELL    .      .  ay 

FIRST  AID 35 

MAXWELTON   BRAES 47 

THE  ROAD  TO  ROME 61 

THE  MASKERS 71 

THE  ISLE  OF  ARCADY 86 

STATES-GENERAL 95 

ARCADES  AMBO 106 

TAKEN 113 

THE  ALIBI 125 

THE  NETTLE,  DANGER 136 

THE  SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN  .      .      .      .150 

THE  SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN  (continued)  169 

FLIGHT 181 

GOOD-BY 194 

THE  LAND  OF  AFTERNOON 205 

TWENTIETH  CENTURY         r.             .      .      ;.      .  215 

AT  THE  RAINBOW'S  END    .                          .      .  226 


BRANSFORD  OF 
RAINBOW  RANGE 


BRANSFORD    IN    ARCADIA 

PROLOGUE 


THE  long  fall  round-up  was  over.  The 
wagon,  homeward  bound,  made  camp  for 
the  last  night  out  at  the  Sinks  of  Lost  River. 
Most  of  the  men,  worn  with  threescore  night- 
guards,  were  buried  under  their  tarps  in  the  deep 
sleep  of  the  weary;  sound  as  that  of  the  just,  and 
much  more  common. 

By  the  low  campfire  a  few  yet  lingered:  old- 
timers,  iron  men,  whose  wiry  and  seasoned 
strength  was  toil-proof — and  Leo  Ballinger,  for 
whom  youth,  excitement  and  unsated  novelty 
served  in  lieu  of  fitness. 

The  "  firelighters,"  working  the  wide  range 
again  from  Ancho  to  Hueco,  from  the  Mai  Pais 
to  Glencoe,  fell  silent  now,  to  mark  an  unstaled 
miracle. 

The  clustered  lights  of  Rainbow's  End  shone 
redly,  near  and  low.  Beyond,  above,  dominant, 
the  black,  unbroken  bulk  of  Rainbow  Range  shut 
out  the  east.  The  clear-cut  crest  mellowed  to 


2      BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

luminous  curves,  feathery  with  far-off  pines;  the 
long  skyline  thrilled  with  frosty  fire,  glowed, 
sparkled — the  cricket's  chirp  was  stilled;  the  slow, 
late  moon  rose  to  a  hushed  and  waiting  world. 

On  the  sharp  crest  she  paused,  irresolute,  tip 
toe,  quivering,  rosily  aflush.  Above  floated  a  web 
of  gossamer.  She  leaped  up,  spurning  the  black 
rim;  glowed,  palpitant,  through  that  filmy  lace — 
and  all  the  desert  throbbed  with  vibrant  light. 

Cool  and  sweet  and  fresh,  from  maiden  leagues 
of  clean,  brown  earth  the  desert  winds  made 
whisper  in  grass  and  fragrant  shrub;  yucca,  mes- 
quite  and  greasewood  swayed — so  softly,  you  had 
not  known  save  as  the  long  shadows  courtesied 
and  danced. 

Leo  flung  up  his  hand.  The  air  was  wine  to 
him.  A  year  had  left  the  desert  still  new  and 
strange.  "  Gee!  "  he  said  eloquently. 

Headlight  nodded.  "  You're  dead  right  on  that 
point,  son.  If  Christopher  K.  Columbus  had  only 
thought  to  beach  his  shallops  on  the  sundown 
side  of  this  here  continent  he  might  have  made  a 
name  for  himself.  Just  think  how  much  different, 

hysterically,  these  United  States " 

'  This  United  States,"  corrected  Pringle  dis 
passionately.  Their  fathers  had  disagreed  on  the 
same  grammatical  point. 

Headlight  scowled.  "  By  Jings  I  '  That  this 
United  Colonies  are,  and  of  right  ought  to  be, 
free  and  independent  States,'  "  he  quoted.  "  I  was 


PROLOGUE  3 

goin'  to  give  you  something  new  to  exercise  your 
talons  on.  You  sit  here  every  night,  ridin'  broncs 
and  four-footin'  steers,  and  never  grab  a  horn  or 
waste  a  loop,  not  once.  Sure  things  ain't  amusin'. 
Some  variety  and  doubtful  accuracy,  now,  would 
develop  our  guessin'  gifts." 

Aforesaid  Smith  brandished  the  end-gate  rod. 
"  Them  speculations  of  yours  sorter  opens  up  of 
themselves.  If  California  had  been  settled  first 
the  salmon  would  now  be  our  national  bird  in 
stead  of  the  potato.  Think  of  Arizona,  mother 
of  Presidents!  Seat  of  government  at  Milipitas; 
center  of  population  about  Butte;  New  Jersey 
howlin'  about  Nevada  trusts !  "  He  impaled  a 
few  beef  ribs  and  held  them  over  the  glowing 
embers. 

"  Georgia  and  South  Carolina  would  be  in 
fested  by  cow-persons  in  decollete  leather  panties," 
said  Jeff  Bransford.  "  New  York  and  Pennsyl 
vania,  would  be  fondly  turning  a  credulous  ear  to 
the  twenty-fourth  consecutive  solemn  promise  of 
Statehood — with  the  Senator  from  Walla  Walla 
urging  admission  of  both  as  one  mighty  State 
with  Maryland  and  Virginia  thrown  in  for 
luck." 

Headlight  forgot  his  pique.  "  Wouldn't  the 
railroads  sound  funny,  though?  Needles  and 
Eastern,  Northern  Atlantic,  Southern  Atlantic, 
Union,  Western,  Kansas  and  Central  Atlantic! 
Earnest  and  continuous  demand  for  a  President 


4      BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

from  east  of  the  Mississippi.  All  the  prize-fights 
pulled  off  at  Boston." 

"  Columbus  done  just  right,"  said  Pringle  de 
cisively.  "  You  fellers  ain't  got  no  imagination 
a-tall.  If  this  Western  country'd  been  settled 
first,  the  maps  would  read :  *  Northeast  Territory. 
— Uninhabitable  wilderness;  region  of  storm  and 
snow,  roaming  savages  and  fierce  wild  beasts.' 
When  the  intrepid  explorer  hit  the  big  white 
weather  he'd  say,  *  Little  old  San  Diego's  good 
enough  for  me! '  Yes,  sir!  " 

"  Oh,  well,  climate  alone  doesn't  account  for 
the  charm  of  this  country — nor  scenery,"  said 
Leo.  c  You  feel  it,  but  you  don't  know  why  it 
is." 

"  It  sure  agrees  with  your  by-laws,"  observed 
Pringle.  "  You're  a  sight  changed  from  the  fur 
tive  behemoth  you  was.  You'll  make  a  hand  yet. 
But,  even  now,  your  dimensions  from  east  to  west 
is  plumb  fascinatin'.  I'd  sure  admire  to  have 
your  picture  to  put  in  my  cornfield." 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Pringle :  I'll  exchange  photo 
graphs  with  you,"  said  Leo  artlessly.  A  smoth 
ered  laugh  followed  this  remark;  uncertainty  as 
to  what  horrible  and  unnamed  use  Leo  would 
make  of  Pringle's  pictured  face  appealed  to  these 
speculative  minds. 

"  I've  studied  out  this  charm  business,"  said 
Jeff.  "  See  if  I'm  not  right.  It's  because  there's 
no  habitually  old  men  here  to  pattern  after,  to 


PROLOGUE  5 

steady  us,  to  make  us  ashamed  of  just  staying 
boys.  Now  and  then  you  hit  an  octagonal  cuss 
like  Wes  here,  that  on  a  mere  count  of  years  and 
hairs  might  be  sized  up  as  old  by  the  superficial 
observer.  But  if  I  have  ever  met  that  man  more 
addicted  with  vivid  nonchalance  as  to  further  con 
tinuance  of  educational  facilities  than  this  same 
Also  Ran,  his  number  has  now  escaped  me. 
Really  aged  old  people  stay  where  they  was." 

"  I  think,  myself,  that  what  makes  life  so  easy 
and  congenial  in  these  latigos  and  longitudes  is 
the  dearth  of  law  and  the  ladies."  Thus  Pringle, 
the  cynic. 

A  fourfold  outcry  ensued;  indignant  repudia 
tion  of  the  latter  heresy.  Their  protest  rose  above 
the  customary  subdued  and  quiet  drawl  of  the 
out-of-doors  man. 

"  But  has  the  law  no  defenders?  "  demanded 
Leo.  "  We've  got  to  have  laws  to  make  us  be 
have." 

"  Sure  thing !  Likewise,  'tis  the  waves  that 
make  the  tide  come  in,"  said  Jeff.  "  A  good  law 
is  as  handy  as  a  good  pocketbook.  But  law,  as 
simply  such,  independent  of  its  merits,  rouses  no 
enthusiasm  in  my  manly  bosom,  no  more  than  a 
signboard  the  day  after  Hallowe'en.  If  it  occurs 
to  me  in  a  moment  of  emotional  sanity  that  the 
environments  of  the  special  case  in  hand  call  for 
a  compound  fracture  of  the  statutes  made  and 
provided — for  some  totally  different  cases  that 


6      BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

happen  to  be  called  by  the  same  name — I  fall  upon 
it  with  my  glittering  hew-gag,  without  no  special 
wonder.  For,"  he  declaimed,  "  I  am  endowed  by 
nature  with  certain  inalienable  rights,  among 
which  are  the  high  justice,  the  middle,  and  the 
low!" 

"  And  who's  to  be  the  judge  of  whether  it's  a 
good  law  or  not?  You?  " 

"  Me.  Me,  every  time.  Some  one  must.  If 
I  let  some  other  man  make  up  my  mind  I've  got 
to  use  my  judgment — picking  the  man  I  follow. 
By  organizing  myself  into  a  Permanent  Commit 
tee  of  One  to  do  my  own  thinking  I  take  my  one 
chance  of  mistakes  instead  of  two." 

"  So  you  believe  in  doing  evil  that  good  may 
come,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Jeff  judicially,  "  it  seems  to  be 
at  least  as  good  a  proposition  as  doing  good  that 
evil  may  come  of  it.  Why,  Capricorn,  there  isn't 
one  thing  we  call  wrong,  when  other  men  do  it, 
that  hasn't  been  lawful,  some  time  or  other. 
When  to  break  a  law  is  to  do  a  wrong,  it's  evil. 
When  it's  doing  right  to  break  a  law,  it's  not 
evil.  Got  that?  It's  not  wrong  to  keep  a  just 
law — and  if  it's  wrong  to  break  an  unjust  law  I 
want  a  new  dictionary  with  pictures  of  it  in  the 
back." 

"  But  laws  is  useful  and  excitin'  diversions  to 
break  up  the  monogamy,"  said  Aforesaid.  "  And 
it's  a  dead  easy  way  to  build  up  a  rep.  Look  at 


PROLOGUE  7 

the  edge  I've  got  on  you  fellows.  You're  just 
supposed  to  be  honest — but  I've  been  proved  hon 
est,  frequent !  " 

"Hark!"  said  Pringle. 

A  weird  sound  reached  them — the  night  wran 
gler,  beguiling  his  lonely  vigil  with  song. 

"  Oh,  the  cuckoo  is  a  pretty  bird ;  she  comes  in  the 
spring " 

"  What  do  you  s'pose  that  night-hawk  thinks 
about  the  majesty  of  the  law?  "  he  said.  There 
was  a  ringing  note  in  his  voice.  Smith  and  Head 
light  nodded  gravely;  their  lean,  brown  faces 
hardened. 

"  You  haven't  heard  of  it?  Old  John  Taylor, 
daddy  to  yonder  warbler,  drifted  here  from  the 
East.  Wife  and  little  girl  both  puny.  Taylor 
takes  up  a  homestead  on  the  Feliz.  He  wasn't 
affluent  none.  I  let  him  have  my  old  paint  pony, 
Freckles — him  being  knee-sprung  and  not  up  to 
cow-work.  To  make  out  an  unparalleled  team,  he 
got  Ed  Poe's  Billy  Bowlegs,  nee  Gambler,  him 
havin'  won  a  new  name  by  a  misunderstanding 
with  a  prairie-dog  hole.  Taylor  paid  Poe  for  him 
in  work.  He  was  a  willin'  old  rooster,  Taylor, 
but  futile  and  left-handed  all  over. 

"  John,  Junior,  he  was  only  thirteen.  Him 
and  the  old  man  moseyed  around  like  two  drunk 
ants,  fixin'  up  a  little  log  house  with  rock  chim- 


8      BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

bleys,  a  horse-pen  and  shelter,  rail-fencin'  of  the 
little  vegas  to  put  to  crops,  and  so  on. 

"  Done  you  good  to  drop  in  and  hear  'em  plan 
and  figger.  They  was  one  happy  family.  How 
Sis  Em'ly  bragged  about  their  hens  layin'I  In 
the  spring  we  all  held  a  bee  and  made  their 
'cequlas  for  'em.  Baker,  he  loaned  'em  a  plow. 
,They  dragged  big  branches  over  the  ground  for 
a  harrow.  They  could  milk  anybody's  cows  they 
was  a  mind  to  tame,  and  the  boys  took  to  carryin' 
over  motherless  calves  for  Mis'  Taylor  to  raise. 
Taylor,  he  done  odd  jobs,  and  they  got  along  real 
well  with  their  crops.  They  went  into  the  second 
winter  peart  as  squirrels. 

"  But,  come  spring,  Sis  wasn't  doin'  well.  They 
had  the  Agency  doctor.  Too  high  up  and  too 
damp,  he  said.  So  the  missus  and  Em'ly  they 
went  to  Cruces,  where  Em'ly  could  go  to  school. 

"  That  meant  right  smart  of  expense — rentin' 
a  house  and  all.  So  the  Johns  they  hires  out. 
John,  Junior,  made  his  dayboo  as  wrangler  for 
the  Steam  Pitchfork,  acquirin'  the  obvious  name 
of  Felix. 

"  The  old  man  he  got  a  job  muckin'  in  Organ 
mines.  Kept  his  hawses  in  Jeff  Isaack's  pasture, 
and  Saturday  nights  he'd  get  one  and  slip  down 
them  eighteen  miles  to  Cruces  for  Sunday  with 
the  folks. 

"  Well,  you  know,  a  homesteader  can't  be  off 
his  claim  more'n  six  months  at  a  time. 


PROLOGUE  9 

"  I  reckon  if  there  was  ever  a  homestead 
taken  up  in  good  faith  'twas  the  Butterbowl. 
They  knew  the  land  laws  from  A  to  Iz- 
zard.  Even  named  their  hound  pup  Boney 
Fido! 

"  But  the  old  man  waited  at  Organ  till  the  last 
bell  rang,  so's  to  draw  down  his  wages,  pay-day. 
jThen  he  bundles  the  folks  into  his  little  old  wagon 
and  lights  out.  Campin'  at  Casimiro's  Well,  half 
way  'cross,  that  ornery  Freckles  hawse  has  a  fit 
of  malignant  nostolgy  and  projects  off  for  But 
terbowl,  afoot,  in  his  hobbles.  Next  day,  Taylor 
don't  overtake  him  till  the  middle  of  the  evenin', 
and  what  with  going  back  and  what  with  Freckles 
being  hobble-sore,  he's  two  days  late  in  reachin' 
home.  For  Lake,  of  Agua  Chiquite,  that  pros 
perous  person,  had  been  keeping  cases.  He  en 
tered  contest  on  the  Butterbowl,  allegin'  abandon 
ment. 

"  Now,  if  it  was  me — but,  then,  if  'twas  me 
I  could  stay  away  six  years  and  two  months  with 
out  no  remonstrances  from  Lake  or  his  likes.  I'm 
somewhat  abandoned  myself. 

"  But  poor  old  Taylor,  he's  been  drug  up  where 
they  hold  biped  life  unaccountable  high.  He  sits 
him  down  resignedly  beneath  the  sky,  as  the  poet 
says,  meek  and  legal.  We  all  don't  abnormally 
like  to  precipitate  in  another  man's  business,  but 
we  makes  it  up  to  sorter  saunter  in  on  Lake, 
spontaneous,  and  evince  our  disfavor  with  a  rope. 


io    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

But  Taylor  says,  '  No.*  He  allows  the  Land 
Office  won't  hold  him  morally  responsible  for  the 
sinful  idiocy  of  a  homesick  spotted  hawse  that's 
otherwise  reliable. 

"  He's  got  one  more  guess  comin*.  There  ain't 
no  sympathies  to  machinery.  Your  intentions  may 
be  strictly  honorable,  but  if  you  get  your  hand 
caught  in  the  cogs,  off  it  goes,  regardless  of  how 
handy  it  is  for  flankin'  calves,  holdin'  nails,  and 
such  things.  *  Absent  over  six  months.  Entry  can 
celed.  Contestant  is  allowed  thirty  days'  prior 
right  to  file.  Next.' 

"  That's  the  way  that  decision'll  read.  It  ain't 
come  yet,  but  it's  due  soon. 

"  This  here  Felix  looks  at  it  just  like  the  old 
man,  only  different — though  he  ain't  makin'  no 
statements  for  publication.  He  come  here  young, 
and  having  acquired  the  fixed  habit  of  riskin'  his 
neck,  regular,  for  one  dollar  per  each  and  every 
diem,  shooin'  in  the  reluctant  steer,  or  a  fool 
hawse  pirouettin'  across  the  pinnacles  with  a  nose 
bag  on — or,  mebbee,  just  for  fun — why,  natural, 
he  don't  see  why  life  is  so  sweet  or  peace  so  dear 
as  to  put  up  with  any  damn  foolishness,  as  Pat 
Henry  used  to  say  when  the  boys  called  on  him 
for  a  few  remarks.  He's  a  some  serious-minded 
boy,  that  night-hawk,  and  if  signs  is  any  indica 
tions,  he's  fixin'  to  take  an  appeal  under  the  Win 
chester  Act.  I  ain't  no  seventh  son  of  a  son-of-a- 
gun,  but  my  prognostications  are  that  he  presently 


PROLOGUE  ii 

removes  Lake  to  another  and,  we  trust,  a  better 
world." 

"  Good  thing,  too,"  grunted  Headlight  "  This 
Lake  person  is  sure-lee  a  muddy  pool." 

"  Shet  your  fool  head,"  said  Pringle  amiably. 
"  You  may  be  on  the  jury.  I'm  going  to  seek  my 
virtuous  couch.  Glad  we  don't  have  to  bed  no 
cattle,  viva  voce,  this  night." 

"  Ain't  he  the  Latin  scholar?  "  said  Headlight 
admiringly.  "  They  blow  about  that  wire  Julius 
Caesar  sent  the  Associated  Press,  but  old  man 
Pringle  done  him  up  for  levity  and  precision  when 
he  wrote  us  the  account  of  his  visit  to  the  Denver 
carnival.  Ever  hear  about  it,  Sagittarius?  " 

"  No,"  said  Leo.    "  What  did  he  say?  " 

"Hie— hock— hike!" 

II 

ESCONDIDO,  half-way  of  the  desert,  is  der 
signed  on  simple  lines.  The  railroad  hauls 
water  in  tank-cars  from  Dog  Canon.  [There  is 
one  depot,  one  section-house,  and  one  combination 
post-office-hotel-store-saloon-stage-station,  kept  by 
Ma  Sanders  and  Pappy  Sanders,  in  about  the 
order  mentioned.  Also,  one  glorious  green  cot- 
tonwood,  one  pampered  rosebush,  jointly  the 
pride  and  delight  of  Escondido,  ownerless,  but 
cherished  by  loving  care  and  "  toted  "  tribute  of 
waste  water. 


12    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

Hither  came  Jeff  and  Leo,  white  with  the  dust 
of  twenty  starlit  leagues,  for  accumulated  mail  of 
Rainbow  South.  Horse-feeding,  breakfast,  gossip 
with  jolly,  motherly  Ma  Sanders,  reading  and  an 
swering  of  mail — then  their  beauty  nap;  so  miss 
ing  the  day's  event,  the  passing  of  the  Flyer. 
When  they  woke  Escondido  basked  drowsily  in 
the  low,  westering  sun.  The  far  sunset  ranges 
had  put  off  their  workaday  homespun  brown  and 
gray  for  chameleon  hues  of  purple  and  amethyst; 
their  deep,  cool  shadows,  edged  with  trembling 
rose,  reached  out  across  the  desert;  the  velvet  air 
stirred  faintly  to  the  promise  of  the  night. 

The  agent  was  putting  up  his  switch-lights; 
from  the  kitchen  came  a  cheerful  clatter  of  tin 
ware. 

"  Now  we  buy  some  dry  goods  and  wet,"  said 
Leo.  They  went  into  the  store. 

"  That  decision's  come !  "  shrilled  Pappy  in 
tremulous  excitement.  "  It's  too  dum  bad !  Reg 
istered  letters  from  Land  Office  for  .Taylor  and 
Lake,  besides  another  for  Lake,  not  registered." 

"  That  one  from  the  Land  Office,  too?  "  said 
Jeff. 

"Didn't  I  jest  tell  ye?  Say,  it's  a  shame! 

Why  don't  some  of  you  fellers Gosh!  If 

I  was  only  young!  " 

"It's  a  travesty  on  justice!"  exclaimed  Leo 
indignantly.  "  There's  really  no  doubt  but  that 
they  decided  for  Lake,  I  suppose?  " 


PROLOGUE  13 

"  Not  a  bit.  He's  got  the  law  with  him.  Then 
him  and  the  Register  is  old  cronies.  Guess  this 
other  letter  is  from  him  unofficial,  likely." 

Jeff  seated  himself  on  a  box.  "  How  long  has 
this  Lake  got  to  do  his  filing  in,  Pappy?  " 

"  Thirty  days  from  the  time  he  signs  the  re 
ceipt  for  this  letter — dum  him !  " 

"  Some  one  ought  to  kidnap  him,"  said  Leo. 

"Why,  that's  illegal!  "  Jeff  nursed  his  knee, 
turned  his  head  to  one  side  and  chanted  thought 
fully: 

"  Said  the  little  Eohippus, 

*  I'm  going  to  be  a  horse, 
And  on  my  middle  finger-nails 
To  run  my  earthly  course  * " 

He  broke  off  and  smiled  at  Leo  indulgently. 
Leo  glanced  at  him  sharply;  this  was  Jeff's  war- 
song  aforetime.  But  it  was  to  Pappy  that  Jeff 
spoke : 

"  Dad,  you're  a  better'n  any  surgeon.  Wish 
you'd  go  out  and  look  at  Leo's  horse.  His  an 
kle's  all  swelled  up.  I'll  be  mixin'  me  up  a  toddy, 
if  Ma's  got  any  hot  water.  I'm  feeling  kinder 
squeamish." 

"  Hot  toddy,  this  weather?  Some  folks  has 
queer  tastes,"  grumbled  Pappy.  "  Ex-cuse  me ! 
Me  and  Leo'll  go  look  at  the  Charley-horse.  [That 
bottle  under  the  shelf  is  the  best."  He  bustled 
out.  But  Jeff  caught  Ballinger  by  the  sleeve. 


"  Will  you  hold  my  garments  while  I  stone 
Stephen?  "  he  hissed. 

"  I  will,"  said  Leo,  meeting  Jeff's  eye.  "  Hit 
him  once  for  me." 

"  Move  the  lever  to  the  right,  you  old  retro 
grade,  and  get  Pappy  to  gyratin'  on  his  axis  some 
fifteen  or  twenty  minutes,  you  listenin'  reverently. 
Meanwhile,  I'll  make  the  necessary  incantations. 
Git!  Don't  look  so  blamed  intelligent,  or  Pap- 
py'll  be  suspicious." 

Bransford  hastened  to  the  kitchen.  "  Ma 
Sanders,  a  bronc  fell  on  me  yesterday  and  my 
poor  body  is  one  big  stone  bruise.  Can  I  borrow 
some  boiling  water  to  mix  a  small  prescrip 
tion,  or  maybe  seven?  One  when  you  first 
feel  like  it,  and  repeat  at  intervals,  the  doctor 
says." 

"  Don't  you  get  full  in  my  house,  Jeff  Brans- 
ford,  or  I'll  feed  you  to  the  hawgs.  You  take 
three  doses,  and  that'll  be  a-plenty  for  you." 

Jeff  put  the  steaming  kettle  on  the  rusty  store 
stove,  used  as  a  waste-paper  basket  through  the 
long  summer.  Touching  off  the  papers  with  a 
match,  he  smashed  an  empty  box  and  put  it  in. 
Then  he  went  into  the  post-office  corner  and  laid 
impious  hands  on  the  United  States  Mail. 

First  he  steamed  open  Lake's  unregistered  let 
ter  from  the  Land  Office.  It  was  merely  a  few 
typewritten  lines,  having  no  reference  to  the  But- 
terbowl:  "Enclosing  the  Plat  of  TP.  14  E.  of 


PROLOGUE  IS; 

First  Guide  Meridan  East  Range  S.  of  3<i  Stand 
ard  Parallel  South,  as  per  request." 

He  paused  to  consider.  His  roving  eye  lit  on 
the  wall,  where  the  Annual  Report  of  the  Gov 
ernor  of  New  Mexico  hung  from  a  nail.  "  The 
very  thing,"  he  said.  Pasted  in  the  report  was 
a  folded  map  of  the  Territory.  This  he  cut  out, 
refolded  it  till  it  slipped  in  the  violated  envelope, 
dabbed  the  flap  neatly  with  Pappy' s  mucilage,  and 
returned  the  letter  to  its  proper  pigeonhole. 

He  replenished  the  fire  with  another  box,  sub 
jected  Lake's  registered  letter  to  the  steaming 
process  and  opened  it  with  delicate  caution.  It 
was  the  decision;  it  was  in  Lake's  favor;  and  it 
went  into  the  fire.  Substituting  for  it  the  Plat 
of  TP.  14  and  the  accompanying  letter  he  re- 
sealed  it  with  workmanlike  neatness,  and  then  re 
stored  it  with  a  final  inspection.  "  The  editor 
sits  on  the  madhouse  floor,  and  pla-ays  with  the 
straws  in  his  hair!  "  he  murmured,  beaming  with 
complacent  pride  and  reaching  for  the  bottle. 

Pappy  and  Leo  found  him  with  his  hands  to 
the  blaze,  shivering.  "  I  feel  like  I  was  going  to 
have  a  chill,"  he  complained.  But  with  a  few 
remedial  measures  he  recuperated  sufficiently  to 
set  off  for  Rainbow  after  supper. 

"  Charley's  ankle  seems  better,"  said  Leo  art 
lessly. 

"  Don't  you  lay  no  stress  on  Charley's  ankle," 
said  Jeff,  in  a  burst  of  confidence.  "  Where  ig- 


1 6    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

norance  is  bliss,  'tis  folly  to  be  otherwise.  Just 
let  Charley's  ankle  slip  your  memory." 

The  following  day  Bransford  drew  rein  at 
Wes  Pringle's  shack  and  summoned  him  forth. 

"  Mr.  John  Wesley  Also  Ran  Pringle,"  he  said 
impressively,  "  I  have  taken  a  horse-ride  over  here 
to  put  you  through  your  cataclysm.  Will  you 
truthfully  answer  the  rebuses  I  shall  now  pro 
pound  to  the  best  of  your  ability,  and  govern 
yourself  accordingly  till  the  surface  of  Hades  con 
geals  to  glistening  bergs,  and  that  with  no  un 
seemly  curiosity?  " 

"  Is  it  serious?  "  asked  Pringle  anxiously. 

"  This  is  straight  talk." 

Pringle  took  a  long  look  and  held  up  his  hand. 
"  I  will,"  he  said  soberly. 

"  John  Wesley,  do  you  or  do  you  not  believe 
Stephen  W.  Lake,  of  Agua  Chiquite,  to  be  a  low- 
down,  coniferous  skunk  by  birth,  inclination  and 
training?  " 

"  I  do." 

"  John  Wesley,  do  you  or  do  you  not  possess 
the  full  confidence  and  affection  of  Felix,  the  night- 
hawk,  otherwise  known  and  designated  as  John 
Taylor,  Junior,  of  Butterbowl,  Esquire?" 

"  I  do." 

"  Do  you,  John  Wesley  Pringle,  esteem  me, 
Jeff  Bransford,  irrespective  of  color,  sex  or  previ 
ous  condition  of  turpitude,  to  be  such  a  one  as 
may  be  safely  tied  to  when  all  the  hitching-posts 


PROLOGUE  17 

is  done  pulled  up,  and  will  you  now  promise  to 
love,  honor  and  obey  me  till  the  cows  come  home, 
or  till  further  orders  ?  " 

"  I  do — I  will.  And  may  God  have  mercy  on 
my  soul." 

"  Here  are  your  powders,  then.  Do  you  go 
and  locate  the  above-mentioned  and  described 
Felix,  and  impart  to  him,  under  the  strict  seal  of 
secrecy,  these  tidings,  to  wit,  namely:  That  you 
have  a  presentiment,  almost  amounting  to  con 
viction,  that  the  Butterbowl  contest  is  decided  in 
Lake's  favor,  but  that  your  further  presentiments 
is  that  said  Lake  will  not  use  his  prior  right.  If 
Taylor  should  get  such  a  decision  from  the  Land 
Office  don't  let  him  or  Felix  say  a  word  to  no 
one.  If  Mr.  B.  Body  should  ask,  tell  'em  'twas 
a  map,  or  land  laws,  or  something.  Moreover, 
said  Felix  he  is  not  to  stab,  cut,  pierce  or  other 
wise  mutilate  said  Lake,  nor  to  wickedly,  ma 
liciously,  feloniously  and  unlawfully  fire  at  or  upon 
the  person  of  said  Lake  with  any  rifle,  pistol,  mus 
ket  or  gun,  the  same  being  then  and  there  loaded 
with  powder  and  with  balls,  shots,  bullets  or  slugs 
of  lead  or  other  metal.  You  see  to  that,  personal. 
I'd  go  to  him  myself,  but  he  don't  know  me  well 
enough  to  have  confidence  in  my  divinations. 

"  You  promulgate  these  prophecies  as  your  sole 
personal  device  and  construction — sabef  Then, 
thirty  days  after  Lake  signs  a  receipt  for  his  de 
cision — and  you  will  take  steps  to  inform  yourself 


1 8    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

of  that — you  sidle  casually  down  to  Roswell  with 
old  man  Taylor  and  see  that  he  puts  preemption 
papers  on  the  Butterbowl.  Selah  1  " 


III 

THE  first  knowledge  Lake  had  of  the  state 
of  affairs  was  when  the  Steam  Pitchfork 
punchers  informally  extended  to  him  the  right 
hand  of  fellowship  (hitherto  withheld)  under  the 
impression  that  he  had  generously  abstained  from 
pushing  home  his  vantage.  When,  in  the  mid- 
flood  of  his  unaccountable  popularity,  the  situa 
tion  dawned  upon  him,  he  wisely  held  his  peace. 
He  was  a  victim  of  the  accomplished  fact.  Tay 
lor  had  already  filed  his  preemption.  So  Lake 
reaped  volunteer  harvest  of  good-will,  bearing  his 
honors  in  graceful  silence. 

On  Lake's  next  trip  to  Escondido,  Pappy 
Sanders  laid  aside  his  marked  official  hauteur. 
Lake  stayed  several  days,  praised  the  rosebush 
and  Ma  Sanders'  cookery,  and  indulged  in  much 
leisurely  converse  with  Pappy.  Thereafter  he  had 
a  private  conference  with  Stratton,  the  Register 
of  the  Roswell  Land  Office.  His  suspicion  fell 
quite  naturally  on  Felix,  and  on  Jeff  as  accessory 
during  the  fact. 

So  it  was  that,  when  Jeff  and  Leo  took  in  Ros 
well  fair  (where  Jeff  won  a  near-prize  at  the 
roping  match),  Hobart,  the  United  States  Mar- 


PROLOGUE  19 

shal,  came  to  their  room.  After  introducing  him 
self  he  said: 

"  Mr.  Stratton  would  like  to  see  you,  Mr. 
Bransford." 

"Why,  that's  all  right!"  said  Jeff  genially. 
"  Some  of  my  very  great  grandfolks  was  Daco- 
tahs  and  I've  got  my  name  in  *  Who's  Sioux ' — 
but  I'm  not  proud !  Trot  him  around.  Exactly 
who  is  Stratton,  anyhow?  " 

"  He's  the  Register  of  the  Land  Office — and 
he  wants  to  see  you  there  on  very  particular  busi 
ness.  I'd  go  if  I  was  you,"  said  the  Marshal  sig 
nificantly. 

"  Oh,  that  way!  "  said  Jeff.  "  Is  this  an  arrest, 
or  do  you  just  give  me  this  in-vitt  semi-offi- 
ciously?  " 

"  You  accuse  yourself,  sir.  Were  you  expect 
ing  arrest?  That  sounds  like  a  bad  con 
science." 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  my  conscience.  *  If 
I've  ever  done  anything  I'm  sorry  for  I'm  glad 
of  it.'  Now  this  Stratton  party — is  he  some  aged 
and  venerable?  'Cause,  if  he  is,  I  waive  cere 
mony  and  seek  him  in  his  lair  at  the  witching 
hour  of  two  this  tarde.  And  if  not,  not." 

"  He's  old  enough — even  if  there  were  no  other 
reasons." 

"  Never  mind  any  other  reasons.  It  shall  never 
be  said  that  I  fail  to  reverence  gray  hairs.  I'll 
be  there." 


20    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"  I  guess  I'll  just  wait  and  see  that  you  go," 
said  the  Marshal. 

"Have  you  got  any  papers  for  me?"  asked 
Jeff  politely. 

"  No." 

"  This  is  my  room,"  said  Jeff.  "  This  is  my 
fist.  This  is  me.  That  is  my  door.  Open  it, 
Leo.  Mr.  Hobart,  you  will  now  make  rapid 
forward  motions  with  your  feet,  alternately,  like 
a  man  removing  his  company  from  where  it  is 
not  desired — or  I'll  go  through  you  like  a  do 
mesticated  cyclone.  See  you  at  two,  sharp ! " 
Hobart  obeyed.  He  was  a  good  judge  of  men. 

Jeff  closed  the  door.  "  '  We  went  upon  the  bat 
tlefield,'  "  he  said  plaintively,  "  *  before  us  and  be 
hind  us,  and  every  which-a-way  we  looked,  we 
seen  a  roscerhinus.'  We  went  into  another  field 
— behind  us  and  before  us,  and  every  which-a-way 
we  looked,  we  seen  a  rhinusorus.  Mr.  Lake  has 
been  evidently  browsin'  and  pe-rusing  around,  and 
poor  old  Pappy,  not  being  posted,  has  likely  been 
narratin'  about  Charley's  ankle  and  how  I  had 
a  chill.  Wough-ough !  " 

"  It  looks  that  way,"  confessed  Leo.  "  Did 
you  have  a  chill,  Jeff?  " 

Jeff's  eyes  crinkled.  "  Not  so  nigh  as  I  am 
now.  But  shucks!  I've  been  in  worse  emer 
gencies,  and  I  always  emerged.  Thanks  be,  I 
can  always  do  my  best  when  I  have  to.  Oh,  what 
a  tangled  web  we  weave  when  we  don't  keep  in 


PROLOGUE  2i 

practice!  If  I'd  just  come  out  straightforward 
and  declared  myself  to  Pappy,  he'd  'a'  tightened 
up  his  drawstrings  and  forgot  all  about  my  chill. 
But,  no,  well  as  I  know  from  long  experience 
that  good  old  human  nature's  only  too  willin'  to 
do  the  right  thing  and  the  fair  thing — if  some- 
body'll  only  tip  it  off  to  'em — I  must  play  a  lone 
hand  and  not  even  call  for  my  partner's  best. 
Well,  I'm  goin'  to  ramify  around  and  scrutinize 
this  here  Stratton's  numbers,  equipments  and  dis 
position.  Meet  me  in  the  office  at  the  fatal 
hour!" 

The  Marshal  wore  a  mocking  smile.  Stratton, 
large,  florid,  well-fed  and  eminently  respectable, 
turned  in  his  revolving  chair  with  a  severe  and 
majestic  motion;  adjusted  his  glasses  in  a  pro 
longed  and  offensive  examination,  and  frowned 
portentously. 

"Fine  large  day,  isn't  it?"  observed  Jeff  af 
fably.  "  Beautiful  little  city  you  have  here."  He 
sank  into  a  chair.  Smile  and  attitude  were  of 
pleased  and  sprightly  anticipation. 

A  faint  flush  showed  beneath  Stratton's  neatly- 
trimmed  mutton-chops.  Such  jaunty  bearing  was 
exasperating  to  offended  virtue.  "  Ah — who  is 
this  other  person,  Mr.  Hobart?  " 

"  Pardon  my  rudeness !  "  Jeff  sprang  up  and 
bowed  brisk  apology.  "  Mr.  Stratton,  allow  me 
to  present  Mr.  Ballinger,  a  worthy  representa- 


22   BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

tive  of  the  Yellow  Press.  Mr.  Stratton — Mr. 
Ballinger!" 

"  I  have  a  communication  to  make  to  you," 
said  the  displeased  Mr.  Stratton,  in  icy  tones, 
"  which,  in  your  own  interest,  should  be  extremely 
private."  The  Marshal  whispered  to  him;  Strat 
ton  gave  Leo  a  fiercely  intimidating  glare. 

"  Communicate  away,"  said  Jeff  airily.  "  Ex 
communicate,  if  you  want  to.  Mr.  Ballinger,  as 
a  citizen,  is  part  owner  of  this  office.  If  you 
want  to  bar  him  you'll  have  to  change  the  venue 
to  your  private  residence.  And  then  I  won't 
come." 

"Very  well,  sir!  "  Mr.  Stratton  rose,  inflated 
his  chest  and  threw  back  his  head.  His  voice  took 
on  a  steady  roll.  "  Mr.  Bransford,  you  stand 
under  grave  displeasure  of  the  law!  You  are 
grievously  suspected  of  being  cognizant  of,  if  not 
actually  accessory  to,  the  robbery  of  the  United 
States  Mail  by  John  Taylor,  Junior,  at  Escon- 
dido,  on  the  eighteenth  day  of  last  October.  You 
may  not  be  aware  of  it,  but  you  have  an  ex 
cellent  chance  of  serving  a  term  in  the  peniten 
tiary!" 

Jeff  pressed  his  hands  between  his  knees  and 
leaned  forward.  "  I'm  sure  I'd  never  be  satisfied 
there,"  he  said,  with  conviction.  His  white  tectii 
flashed  in  an  ingratiatory  smile.  "  But  why  sus 
pect  young  John? — why  not  old  John?"  He 
paused,  looking  at  the  Register  attentively. 


PROLOGUE  23 

"H'm! — you're  from  Indiana,  I  believe,  Mr. 
Stratton?  "  he  said. 

"  The  elder  Taylor,  on  the  day  in  question, 
is  fully  accounted  for,"  said  Hobart.  "  Young 
[Taylor  claims  to  have  passed  the  night  at  Willow 
Springs,  alone.  But  no  one  saw  him  from  break 
fast  time  the  seventeenth  till  noon  on  the  nine 
teenth." 

"  He  rarely  ever  has  any  one  with  him  when 
he's  alone.  That  may  account  for  them  not  see 
ing  him  at  Willow,"  suggested  Jeff.  He  did  not 
look  at  Hobart,  but  regarded  Stratton  with  an  air 
of  deep  meditation. 

The  Register  paced  the  floor  slowly,  ponder 
ously,  with  an  impressive  pause  at  each  turn,  tap 
ping  his  left  hand  with  his  eyeglass  to  score  his 
points.  "  He  had  ample  time  to  go  to  Escondido 
and  return.  The  envelope  in  which  Mr.  Lake's 
copy  of  this  office's  decision  in  the  Lake-Taylor 
contest  was  enclosed  has  been  examined.  It  bears 
unmistakable  signs  of  having  been  tampered 
with."  [Turning  to  mark  the  effect  of  these  tac 
tics,  he  became  aware  of  his  victim's  contem 
plative  gaze.  It  disconcerted  him.  He  resumed 
his  pacing.  Jeff  followed  him  with  a  steady  eye. 

"  In  the  same  mail  I  sent  Mr.  Lake  another 
letter.  The  envelope  was  unfortunately  de 
stroyed,  Mr.  Lake  suspecting  nothing.  A  map 
had  been  substituted  for  its  contents,  and  they, 
in  turn,  were  substituted  for  the  decision  in  the 


24  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

registered  letter,  with  the  evident  intention  of  de 
priving  Mr.  Lake  of  his  prior  right  to  file." 

"  By  George !  It  sounds  probable."  Jeff 
laughed  derisively.  "  So  that's  it!  And  here  we 
all  thought  Lake  let  it  go  out  of  giddy  generos 
ity  I  My  stars,  but  won't  he  get  the  horse-smile 
when  the  boys  find  out?  " 

Stratton  controlled  himself  with  an  effort. 
"  We  have  decided  not  to  push  the  case  against 
you  if  you  will  tell  what  you  know,"  he  began. 

Jeff  lifted  his  brows.  "  We?  And  who's  we? 
You  two?  I  should  have  thought  this  was  a  post- 
office  lay." 

"  We  are  investigating  the  affair,"  explained 
Hobart. 

"  I  see  I  As  private  individuals.  Yes,  yes. 
Does  Lake  pay  you  by  the  day  or  by  the  job?  " 

Stratton,  blazing  with  anger,  smote  his  palm 
heavily  with  his  fist.  "  Young  man !  Young  man ! 
Your  insolence  is  unbearable!  We  are  trying  to 
spare  you — as  you  had  no  direct  interest  in  the 
matter  and  doubtless  concealed  your  guilty  knowl 
edge  through  a  mistaken  and  distorted  sense  of 
honor.  But  you  tempt  us — you  tempt  us!  You 
don't  seem  to  realize  the  precarious  situation  in 
which  you  stand." 

"  What  I  don't  see,"  said  Jeff,  in  puzzled  tones, 
"  is  why  you  bother  to  spare  me  at  all.  If  you 
can  prove  this,  why  don't  you  cinch  me  and  Felix 
both?  Why  do  you  want  me  to  tell  you  what 


PROLOGUE  25 

you  already  know?  And  if  you  can't  prove  it — 
who  the  hell  cares  what  you  suspect?" 

"  We  will  arrest  you,"  said  Stratton  thickly, 
"  just  as  soon  as  we  can  make  out  the  papers !  " 

"  Turn  your  wolf  loose,  you  four-flushers  1  You 
may  make  me  trouble,  but  you  can't  prove  any 
thing.  Speaking  of  trouble — how  about  you,  Mr. 
Stratton? "  As  a  spring  leaps,  released  from 
highest  tension,  face  and  body  and  voice  flashed 
from  passive  indolence  to  sudden,  startling  at 
tack.  His  arm  lashed  swiftly  out  as  if  to  deliver 
the  swordsman's  stabbing  thrust;  the  poised  body 
followed  up  to  push  the  stroke  home.  "  You 
think  your  secret  safe,  don't  you?  It's  been  some 
time  ago." 

Words  only — yet  it  might  have  been  a  very 
sword's  point  past  Stratton's  guard.  For  the 
Register  flinched,  staggered,  his  arrogant  face 
grew  mottled,  his  arm  went  up.  He  fell  back  a 
step,  silent,  quivering,  leaning  heavily  on  a  chair. 
The  Marshal  gave  him  a  questioning  glance.  Jeff 
kept  on. 

"  You're  prominent  in  politics,  business,  society, 
the  church.  You've  a  family  to  think  of.  It's  up 
to  you,  Mr.  Stratton.  Is  it  worth  while?  Had 
we  better  drop  it  with  a  dull,  sickening  thud?  " 

Stratton  collapsed  into  the  chair,  a  shapeless 
bundle,  turning  a  shriveled,  feeble  face  to  the 
Marshal  in  voiceless  imploring. 

Unhesitating,  Hobart  put  a  hand  on  his  shoul- 


26  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

der.  "  That's  all  right,  old  man!  We  won't  give 
you  away.  Brace  up !  "  He  nodded  Jeff  to  the 
door.  "  You  win !  "  he  said.  Leo  followed  on 
tiptoe. 

"  Why,  the  poor  old  duck !  "  said  Jeff  remorse 
fully,  in  the  passage.  "  Wish  I  hadn't  come  down 
on  him  so  hard.  I  overdid  it  that  time.  Still,  if 
I  hadn't " 

At  the  Hondo  Bridge  Jeff  looked  back  and 
waved  a  hand.  "  Good-by,  old  town !  Now  we 
go,  gallopy-trot,  gallopy,  gallopy-trot ! "  He 
sang,  and  the  ringing  hoofs  kept  time  and  tune, 

"  Florence  Mehitabel  Genevieve  Jane, 
She  came  home  in  the  wind  an'  the  rain, 
She  came  home  in  the  rain  an'  the  snow; 
'  Ain't  a-goin'  to  leave  my  home  any  mo' ! ' ' 

"  Jeff,"  said  the  mystified  Ballinger,  spurring 
up  beside  him,  "  what  has  the  gray-haired  Register 
'done?  Has  murder  stained  his  hands  with 
gore?" 

Jeff  raised  his  bridle  hand. 

"Gee!  Leo,  I  don't  know!  I  just  taken  a 
chance  I 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  PIOCCHER  THAT  WENT  TO  THE 
WELL 

"  When  I  bend  my  head  low  and  listen  at  the  ground, 
I  can  hear  vague  voices  that  I  used  to  know, 
Stirring  in  dim  places,  faint  and  restless  sound; 
I  remember  how  it  was  when  the  grass  began  to  grow." 
—Song  of  The  Wandering  Dust, 

ANNA  HEMPSTEAD  BRANCH. 

THE  pines  thinned  as  she  neared  Rainbow 
Rim,  the  turfy  glades  grew  wider;  she  had 
glimpses  of  open  country  beyond — until,  at  last, 
crossing  a  little  spit  of  high  ground,  she  came  to 
the  fairest  spot  in  all  her  voyage  of  exploration 
and  discovery.  She  sank  down  on  a  fallen  log 
with  a  little  sigh  of  delight. 

,The  steep  bank  of  a  little  canon  broke  away  at 
her  feet — a  canon  which  here  marked  the  fron 
tier  of  the  pines,  its  farther  side  overgrown  with 
mahogany  bush  and  chaparral — a  canon  that  fell 
in  long,  sinuous  curves  from  the  silent  mystery  of 
forest  on  Rainbow  Crest  behind  her,  to  widen 
just  below  into  a  rolling  land,  parked  with  green- 
black  powderpuffs  of  juniper  and  cedar;  and  so 

27 


28   BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

passed  on  to  mystery  again,  twisting  away  through 
the  folds  of  the  low  and  bare  gray  hills  to  the 
westward,  ere  the  last  stupendous  plunge  over  the 
Rim  to  the  low  desert,  a  mile  toward  the  level  of 
the  waiting  sea. 

Facing  the  explorer,  across  the  little  canon,  a 
clear  spring  bubbled  from  the  hillside  and  fell 
with  pleasant  murmur  and  tinkle  to  a  pool  below, 
fringed  with  lush  emerald — a  spring  massed  about 
with  wild  grapevine,  shining  reeds  of  arrow-weed; 
a  tangle  of  grateful  greenery,  jostling  eagerly  for 
the  life-giving  water.  Draped  in  clinging  vines, 
slim  acacias  struggled  up  through  the  jungle;  the 
exquisite  fragrance  of  their  purple  bells  gave  a 
final  charm  to  the  fairy  chasm. 

But  the  larger  vision !  The  nearer  elfin  beauty 
Swindled,  was  lost,  forgotten.  Afar,  through  a 
narrow  cleft  in  the  gray  westward  hills,  the  ex 
plorer's  eye  leaped  out  over  a  bottomless  gulf  to 
a  glimpse  of  shining  leagues  midway  of  the  desert 
greatness — an  ever-widening  triangle  that  rose 
against  the  peaceful  west  to  long  foothill  reaches, 
to  a  misty  mountain  parapet,  far-beckoning,  whis 
pering  of  secrets,  things  dreamed  of,  unseen,  be 
yond  the  framed  and  slender  arc  of  vision.  A' 
land  of  enchantment  and  mystery,  decked  with 
strong  barbaric  colors,  blue  and  red  and  yellow, 
brown  and  green  and  gray;  whose  changing  ebb 
and  flow,  by  some  potent  sorcery  of  atmosphere, 
distance  and  angle,  altered,  daily,  hourly;  deep- 


THE  PITCHER  TO  THE  WELL     29 

ening,  fading,  combining  into  new  and  fantastic 
lines  and  shapes,  to  melt  again  as  swiftly  to  others 
yet  more  bewildering. 

The  explorer?  It  may  be  mentioned  in  pass 
ing  that  any  other  would  have  found  that  fairest 
prospect  even  more  wonderful  than  did  the  ex 
plorer,  Miss  Ellinor  Hoffman.  We  will  attempt 
no  clear  description  of  Miss  Ellinor  Hoffman. 
Dusky-beautiful  she  was;  crisp,  fresh  and  spark 
ling;  tall,  vigorous,  active,  strong.  Yet  she  was 
more  than  merely  beautiful — warm  and  frank 
and  young;  brave  and  kind  and  true.  Perhaps, 
even  more  than  soft  curves,  lips,  glory  of  hair 
or  bewildering  eyes,  or  all  together,  her  chiefest 
charm  was  her  manner,  her  frank  friendliness. 
Earth  was  sweet  to  her,  sweeter  for  her. 

This  by  way  of  aside  and  all  to  no  manner  of 
good.  You  have  no  picture  of  her  in  your  mind. 
Remember  only  that  she  was  young — 

"  The  stars  to  drink  from  and  the  sky  to  dance  on  " 

— young  and  happy,  and  therefore  beautiful; 
that  the  sun  was  shining  in  a  cloudless  sky,  the 
south  wind  sweet  and  fresh,  buds  in  the  willow. 

The  peace  was  rent  and  shivered  by  strange 
sounds,  as  of  a  giant  falling  downstairs.  There 
was  a  crash  of  breaking  boughs  beyond  the  canon, 
a  glint  of  color,  a  swift  black  body  hurtling  madly 


30    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

through  the  shrubbery.  The  girl  shrank  back. 
There  was  no  time  for  thought,  hardly  for  alarm. 
On  the  farther  verge  the  bushes  parted;  an  ap 
parition  hurled  arching  through  the  sunshine, 
down  the  sheer  hill — a  glorious  and  acrobatic 
horse,  his  black  head  low  between  his  flashing 
feet;  red  nostrils  wide  with  rage  and  fear;  foam 
flecks  white  on  the  black  shoulders;  a  tossing 
mane;  a  rider,  straight  and  tall,  superb — to  all 
seeming  an  integral  part  of  the  horse,  pitch  he 
never  so  wildly. 

The  girl  held  her  breath  through  the  splintered 
seconds.  She  thrilled  at  the  shock  and  storm  of 
them,  straining  muscles  and  white  hoofs,  lurching, 
stumbling,  sliding,  lunging,  careening  in  perilous 
arcs.  She  saw  stones  that  rolled  with  them  or 
bounded  after;  a  sombrero  whirled  above  the 
dust  and  tumult  like  a  dilatory  parachute;  a  six- 
shooter  jolted  up  into  the  air.  Through  the  dust- 
clouds  there  were  glimpses  of  a  watchful  face, 
hair  blown  back  above  it;  a  broken  rein  snapped 
beside  it,  saddle-strings  streamed  out  behind;  a 
supple  body  that  swung  from  curve  to  easy  curve 
against  shock  and  plunge,  that  swayed  and  poised 
and  clung,  and  held  its  desperate  dominion  still. 
The  saddle  slipped  forward;  with  a  motion  in 
credibly  swift,  as  a  hat  is  whipped  off  in  a  gust  of 
wind,  it  whisked  over  withers  and  neck  and  was 
under  the  furious  feet.  Swifter,  the  rider!  Cat- 
quick,  he  swerved,  lit  on  his  feet,  leaped  aside. 


THE  PITCHER  TO  THE  WELL     31 

Alas,  oh,  rider  beyond  compare,  undefeated 
champion,  Pride  of  Rainbow!  Alas,  that  such 
thing  should  be  recorded!  He  leaped  aside  to 
shun  the  black  frantic  death  at  his  shoulder;  his 
feet  were  in  the  treacherous  vines:  he  toppled, 
grasped  vainly  at  an  acacia,  catapulted  out  and 
down,  head  first;  so  lit,  crumpled  and  fell  with 
a  prodigious  splash  into  the  waters  of  the  pool  I 
Ay  dl  mi,  Alhama! 

The  blankets  lay  strewn  along  the  hill ;  but  ob 
serve  that  the  long  lead  rope  of  the  hackamore 
(a  "  hackamore,"  properly  jaquima,  is,  for  your 
better  understanding,  merely  a  rope  halter)  was 
coiled  at  the  saddle-horn,  held  there  by  a  stout 
hornstring.  As  the  black  reached  the  level  the 
saddle  was  at  his  heels.  To  kick  was  obvious,  to 
go  away  not  less  so;  but  this  new  terror  clung 
to  the  maddened  creature  in  his  frenzied  flight — 
between  his  legs,  in  the  air,  at  his  heels,  his  hip, 
his  neck.  A  low  tree  leaned  from  the  hillside; 
the  aerial  saddle  caught  in  the  forks  of  it,  the 
bronco's  head  was  jerked  round,  he  was  pulled  to 
his  haunches,  overthrown;  but  the  tough  horn- 
string  broke,  the  freed  coil  snapped  out  at  him; 
he  scrambled  up  and  bunched  his  glorious  muscles 
in  a  vain  and  furious  effort  to  outrun  the  rope 
that  dragged  at  his  heels,  and  so  passed  from 
sight  beyond  the  next  curve. 

Waist-deep  in  the  pool  sat  the  hatless  horse 
man,  or  perhaps  horseless  horseman  were  the 


juster  term,  steeped  in  a  profound  calm.  That 
last  phrase  has  a  familiar  sound;  Mark  Twain's, 
doubtless — but,  all  things  considered,  steeped  is 
decidedly  the  word.  One  gloved  hand  was  in  the 
water,  the  other  in  the  muddy  margin  of  the 
pool:  he  watched  the  final  evolution  of  his  late 
mount  with  meditative  interest.  The  saddle  was 
freed  at  last,  but  its  ex-occupant  still  sat  there, 
lost  in  thought.  Blood  trickled,  unnoted,  down 
his  forehead. 

The  last  stone  followed  him  into  the  pool ;  the 
echoes  died  on  the  hills.  The  spring  resumed  its 
pleasant  murmur,  but  the  tinkle  of  its  fall  was 
broken  by  the  mimic  waves  of  the  pool.  Save  for 
this  troubled  sloshing  against  the  banks,  the  slow- 
settling  dust  and  the  contemplative  bust  of  the 
one-time  centaur,  no  trace  was  left  to  mark  the 
late  disastrous  invasion. 

.The  invader's  dreamy  and  speculative  gaze  fol 
lowed  the  dust  of  the  trailing  rope.  He  opened 
his  lips  twice  or  thrice,  and  spoke,  after  several 
futile  attempts,  in  a  voice  mild,  but  clearly  earnest: 

"  Oh,  you  little  eohippus !  " 

The  spellbound  girl  rose.  Her  hand  was  at 
her  throat;  her  eyes  were  big  and  round,  and  her 
astonished  lips  were  drawn  to  a  round,  red  O. 

Sharp  ears  heard  the  rustle  of  her  skirts,  her 
soft  gasp  of  amazement.  The  merman  turned  his 
head  briskly,  his  eye  met  hers.  One  gloved  hand 
brushed  his  brow;  a  broad  streak  of  mud  ap- 


THE  PITCHER  TO  THE  WELL     33 

peared  there,  over  which  the  blood  meandered  un 
certainly.  He  looked  up  at  the  maid  in  silence: 
in  silence  the  maid  looked  down  at  him.  He 
nodded,  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

"  Good-morning !  "  he  said  casually. 

At  this  cheerful  greeting,  the  astounded  maid 
was  near  to  tumbling  after,  like  Jill  of  the  song. 

"  Er — good-morning!  "  she  gasped. 

Silence.  The  merman  reclined  gently  against 
the  bank  with  a  comfortable  air  of  satisfaction. 
The  color  came  flooding  back  to  her  startled  face. 

"  Oh,  are  you  hurt?  "  she  cried. 

A  puzzled  frown  struggled  through  the  mud. 

"Hurt?"    he    echoed.     "  Who,    me? 
Why,  no — leastwise,  I  guess  not." 

He  wiggled  his  fingers,  raised  his  arms,  wagged 
his  head  doubtfully  and  slowly,  first  sidewise  and 
then  up  and  down;  shook  himself  guardedly,  and 
finally  raised  tentative  boot-tips  to  the  surface. 
After  this  painstaking  inspection  he  settled  con 
tentedly  back  again. 

"  Oh,  no,  I'm  all  right,"  he  reported.  "  Only 
I  lost  a  big,  black,  fine,  young,  nice  horse  some 
how.  You  ain't  seen  nothing  of  him,  have  you?  " 

"  Then  why  don't  you  get  out?  "  she  demanded. 
"  I  believe  you  are  hurt." 

"Get  out?  Why,  yes,  ma'am.  Certainly. 
Why  not?  "  But  the  girl  was  already  beginning 
to  clamber  down,  grasping  the  shrubbery  to  aid 
in  the  descent. 


34    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

Now  the  bank  was  steep  and  sheer.  So  the 
merman  rose,  tactfully  clutching  the  grapevines 
behind  him  as  a  plausible  excuse  for  turning  his 
back.  It  followed  as  a  corollary  of  this  generous 
act  that  he  must  needs  be  lame,  which  he  accord 
ingly  became.  As  this  mishap  became  acute, 
his  quick  eyes  roved  down  the  canon,  where  he  saw 
what  gave  him  pause;  and  he  groaned  sincerely 
under  his  breath.  For  the  black  horse  had  taken 
to  the  parked  uplands,  the  dragging  rope  had 
tangled  in  a  snaggy  tree-root,  and  he  was  tracing 
weary  circles  in  bootless  effort  to  be  free. 

Tactful  still,  the  dripping  merman  hobbled  to 
the  nearest  shade  wherefrom  the  luckless  black 
horse  should  be  invisible,  eclipsed  by  the  inter 
vening  ridge,  and  there  sank  down  in  a  state  of 
exhaustion,  his  back  to  a  friendly  tree-trunk. 


CHAPTER  II 
FIRST  AID 

**Oh  woman!  in  our  hours  of  ease 
Uncertain,  coy  and  hard  to  please; 
But  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  thy  face 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace ! " 

A  MOMENT  later  the  girl  was  beside  him, 
pity  in  her  eyes. 

"  Let  me  see  that  cut  on  your  head,"  she  said. 
She  dropped  on  her  knee  and  parted  the  hair  with 
a  gentle  touch. 

"  Why,  you're  real !  "  breathed  the  injured 
near-centaur,  beaming  with  wonder  and  gratifica 
tion. 

She  sat  down  limply  and  gave  way  to  wild 
laughter. 

"  So  are  you !  "  she  retorted.  "  Why,  that  is 
exactly  what  I  was  thinking!  I  thought  maybe 
I  was  asleep  and  having  an  extraordinary  dream. 
That  wound  on  your  head  is  not  serious,  if  that's 
all."  She  brushed  back  a  wisp  of  hair  that  blew 
across  her  eyes. 

"  I  hurt  this  head  just  the  other  day,"  observed 
the  bedraggled  victim,  as  one  who  has  an  assort- 
as 


36    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

ment  of  heads  from  which  to  choose.  He  pulled 
off  his  soaked  gloves  and  regarded  them  ruefully. 
"  '  Them  that  go  down  to  deep  waters !  *  .That 
was  a  regular  triumph  of  matter  over  mind, 
wasn't  it?" 

"It's  a  wonder  you're  alive!  My!  How 
frightened  I  was !  Aren't  you  hurt — truly?  Ribs 
or  anything?  " 

The  patient's  elbows  made  a  convulsive  move 
ment  to  guard  the  threatened  ribs. 

"  Oh,  no,  ma'am.  I  ain't  hurt  a  bit — indeed 
I  ain't,"  he  said  truthfully;  but  his  eyes  had  the 
languid  droop  of  one  who  says  the  thing  that  is 
not.  "  Don't  you  worry  none  about  me — not  one 
bit.  Sorry  I  frightened  you.  That  black  horse 

now "  He  stopped  to  consider  fully  the  case 

of  the  black  horse.  "  Well,  you  see,  ma'am,  that 
black  horse,  he  ain't  exactly  right  plumb  gentle." 
His  eyelids  drooped  again. 

The  girl  considered.  She  believed  him — both 
that  he  was  not  badly  hurt  and  that  the  black 
horse  was  not  exactly  gentle.  And  her  suspicions 
were  aroused.  His  slow  drawl  was  getting 
slower;  his  cowboyese  broader — a  mode  of  speech 
quite  inconsistent  with  that  first  sprightly  remark 
about  the  little  eohippus.  What  manner  of  cow 
boy  was  this,  from  whose  tongue  a  learned  sci 
entific  term  tripped  spontaneously  in  so  stressful 
a  moment — who  quoted  scraps  of  the  litany  un 
aware?  Also,  her  own  eyes  were  none  of  the 


slowest.  She  had  noted  that  the  limping  did  not 
begin  until  he  was  clear  of  the  pool.  Still,  that 
might  happen  if  one  were  excited;  but  this  one 
had  been  singularly  calm,  **  more  than  usual 
ca'm,"  she  mentally  quoted.  .  .  .  Of  course,  if 
he  really  were  badly  hurt — which  she  didn't  be 
lieve  one  bit — a  little  bruised  and  jarred,  maybe — 
the  only  thing  for  her  to  do  would  be  to  go  back 
to  camp  and  get  help.  .  .  .  (That  meant  the 
renewal  of  Lake's  hateful  attentions  and — for  the 
other  girls,  the  sharing  of  her  find.  .  .  .  She 
stole  another  look  at  her  find  and  thrilled  with 
all  the  pride  of  the  discoverer.  .  .  .  No  doubt 
he  was  shaken  and  bruised,  after  all.  He  must 
be  suffering.  What  a  splendid  rider  he  was! 

"  What  made  you  so  absurd?  Why  didn't  you 
get  out  of  the  water,  then,  if  you  are  not  hurt?  " 
she  snapped  suddenly. 

The  drooped  lids  raised;  brown  eyes  looked 
steadily  into  brown  eyes. 

"  I  didn't  want  to  wake  up,"  he  said. 

The  candor  of  this  explanation  threw  her,  for 
the  moment,  into  a  vivid  and  becoming  confusion. 
The  dusky  roses  leaped  to  her  cheeks;  the  long, 
dark  lashes  quivered  and  fell.  Then  she  rose  to 
the  occasion. 

"  And  how  about  the  little  eohippus?  "  she  de 
manded.  "  That  doesn't  seem  to  go  well  with 
some  of  your  other  talk." 

"  Oh  1  "    He  regarded  her  with  pained  but  un- 


38    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

flinching  innocence.  "  The  Latin,  you  mean? 
Why,  ma'am,  that's  most  all  the  Latin  I  know — > 
that  and  some  more  big  words  in  that  song.  I 
learned  that  song  off  of  Frank  John,  just  like  a 
poll-parrot" 

"Sing  it!  And  eohippus  isn't  Latin.  It's 
Greek." 

"  Why,  ma'am,  I  can't,  just  now — I'm  so 
muddy;  but  I'll  tell  it  to  you.  Maybe  I'll  sing  it 
to  you  some  other  time."  A  sidelong  glance  ac 
companied  this  little  suggestion.  The  girl's  face 
was  blank  and  non-committal;  so  he  resumed:  "  It 
goes  like  this: 

"  Said  the  little  Eohippus, 

*  I'm  going  to  be  a  horse, 
And  on  my  middle  finger-nails 
To  run  my  earthly  course '-— — 

No;  that  wasn't  the  first.     It  begins: 

"There  was  once  a  little  animal 

No  bigger  than  a  fox, 
And  on  five  toes  he  scampered 

"  Of  course  you  know,  ma'am — Frank  John  he 
told  me  about  it — that  horses  were  little  like  that, 
'way  back.  And  this  one  he  set  his  silly  head  that 
he  was  going  to  be  a  really-truly  horse,  like  the 
song  says.  And  folks  told  him  he  couldn't — 


FIRST  AID  39 

couldn't  possibly  be  done,  nohow.  And  sure 
enough  he  did.  It's  a  foolish  song,  really.  I  only 
sing  parts  of  it  when  I  feel  like  that — like  it 
couldn't  be  done  and  I  was  going  to  do  it,  you 
know.  The  boys  call  it  my  song.  Look  here, 
ma'am !  "  He  fished  in  his  vest  pocket  and  pro 
duced  tobacco  and  papers,  matches — last  of  all, 
a  tiny  turquoise  horse,  an  inch  long.  "  I  had  a 
jeweler-man  put  five  toes  on  his  feet  once  to  make 
him  be  a  little  eohippus.  Going  to  make  a  watch- 
charm  of  him  sometime.  He's  a  lucky  little  eohip 
pus,  I  think.  Peso  gave  him  to  me  when — never 
mind  when.  Peso's  a  Mescalero  Indian,  you 
know,  chief  of  police  at  the  agency."  He  gingerly 
dropped  the  little  horse  into  her  eager  palm. 

It  was  a  singularly  grotesque  and  angular  little 
beast,  high-stepping,  high-headed,  with  a  level 
stare,  at  once  complacent  and  haughty.  Despite 
the  first  unprepossessing  rigidity  of  outline,  there 
was  somehow  a  sprightly  air,  something  endear 
ing,  in  the  stiff,  purposed  stride,  the  alert,  inquir 
ing  ears,  the  stern  and  watchful  eye.  Each  tiny 
hoof  was  faintly  graven  to  semblance  of  five  tinier 
toes;  there,  the  work  showed  fresh. 

"The  cunning  little  monster!  "  Prison  grime 
was  on  him;  she  groomed  and  polished  at  his 
dingy  sides  until  the  wonderful  color  shone  out 
triumphant.  "  What  is  it  that  makes  him  such  a 
dear?  Oh,  I  know.  It's  something — well,  child 
like,  you  know.  Think  of  the  grown-up  child  that 


40    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

toiled  with  pride  and  joy  at  the  making  of  him— 
dear  me,  how  many  lifetimes  since! — and  fondly 
put  him  by  as  a  complete  horse."  She  held  him 
up  in  the  sun:  the  ingrate  met  her  caress  with 
the  same  obdurate  and  indomitable  glare.  She 
laughed  her  rapturous  delight:  "There!  How 
much  better  you  look!  Oh,  you  darling!  Aren't 
you  absurd?  Straight-backed,  stiff-legged,  thick- 
necked,  square-headed — and  that  ridiculously  bale 
ful  eye!  It's  too  high  up  and  too  far  forward, 
you  know — and  your  ears  are  too  big — and  you 
have  such  a  malignant  look!  Never  mind;  now 
that  you're  all  nice  and  clean,  I'm  going  to  reward 
you."  Her  lips  just  brushed  him — the  lucky  little 
eohippus. 

The  owner  of  the  lucky  little  horse  was  not 
able  to  repress  one  swift,  dismal  glance  at  his 
own  vast  dishevelment,  nor,  as  his  shrinking 
hands,  entirely  of  their  own  volition,  crept  stealth 
ily  to  hiding,  the  slightest  upward  rolling  of  a 
hopeful  eye  toward  the  leaping  waters  of  the 
spring;  but,  if  one  might  judge  from  her  sedate 
and  matter-of-fact  tones,  that  eloquent  glance  was 
wasted  on  the  girl. 

"  You  ought  to  take  better  care  of  him,  you 
know,"  she  said  as  she  restored  the  little  monster 
to  his  owner.  Then  she  laughed.  "  Hasn't  he 
a  fierce  and  warlike  appearance,  though?  " 

"  Sure.  That's  resolution.  Look  at  those 
legs !  "  said  the  owner  fondly.  "  He  spurns  the 


FIRST  AID  41 

ground.  He's  going  somewheres.  He's  going  to 
be  a  horse  1  And  them  ears — one  cocked  forward 
and  the  other  back,  strictly  on  the  cuidado!  He'll 
make  it.  He'll  certainly  do  to  take  along  1  Yes, 
ma'am,  I'll  take  right  good  care  of  him."  He 
regarded  the  homely  beast  with  awe;  he  swathed 
him  in  cigarette  papers  with  tenderest  care.  "  I'll 
leave  him  at  home  after  this.  He  might  get  hurt 
I  might  sometime  want  to  give  him  to— some 
body." 

The  girl  sprang  up. 

"  Now  I  must  get  some  water  and  wash  that 
head,"  she  announced  briskly. 

"  Oh,  no — I  can't  let  you  do  that.  I  can  walk. 
I  ain't  hurt  a  bit,  I  keep  telling  you."  In  proof 
of  which  he  walked  to  the  pool  with  a  palpably 
clever  assumption  of  steadiness.  The  girl  flut 
tered  solicitous  at  his  elbow.  Then  she  ran  ahead, 
climbed  up  to  the  spring  and  extended  a  firm,  cool 
hand,  which  he  took  shamelessly,  and  so  came 
to  the  fairy  waterfall. 

Here  he  made  himself  presentable  as  to  face 
and  hands.  It  is  just  possible  there  was  a  certain 
expectancy  in  his  eye  as  he  neared  the  close  of 
these  labors ;  but  if  there  were  it  passed  unnoted. 
The  girl  bathed  the  injured  head  with  her  hand 
kerchief,  and  brushed  back  his  hair  with  a  dainty 
caressing  motion  that  thrilled  him  until  the  color 
rose  beneath  the  tan.  There  was  a  glint  of  gray 
in  the  wavy  black  hair,  she  noted. 


42   BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

She  stepped  back  to  regard  her  handiwork. 
"Now  you  look  better!"  she  said  approvingly. 
Then,  slightly  flurried,  not  without  a  memory  of 
a  previous  and  not  dissimilar  remark  of  hers,  she 
was  off  up  the  hill:  whence,  despite  his  shocked 
protest,  she  brought  back  the  lost  gun  and  hat. 

Her  eyes  were  sparkling  when  she  returned, 
her  face  glowing.  Ignoring  his  reproachful  gaze, 
she  wrung  out  her  handkerchief,  led  the  patient 
firmly  down  the  hill  and  to  his  saddle,  made  him 
trim  off  a  saddle-string,  and  bound  the  handker 
chief  to  the  wound.  She  fitted  the  sombrero 
gently. 

"There!  Don't  this  head  feel  better  now?" 
she  queried  gayly,  with  fine  disregard  for  gram 
mar.  "And  now  what?  Won't  you  come  back 
to  camp  with  me  ?  Mr.  Lake  will  be  glad  to  put 
you  up  or  to  let  you  have  a  horse.  Do  you  live 
far  away?  I  do  hope  you  are  not  one  of  those 

Rosebud  men.    Mr.  La "    She  bit  her  speech 

off  midword. 

"  No  men  there  except  this  Mr.  Lake?  "  asked 
the  cowboy  idly. 

"Oh,  yes;  there's  Mr.  Herbert — he's  gone 
riding  with  Lettie — and  Mr.  White;  but  it  was' 
Mr.  Lake  who  got  up  the  camping  party.  Mother 
and  Aunt  Lot,  and  a  crowd  of  us  girls — La  Luz 
girls,  you  know.  Mother  and  I  are  visiting  Mr. 
Lake's  sister.  He's  going  to  give  us  a  masquerade 
ball  when  we  get  back,  next  week." 


FIRST  AID  43 

The  cowboy  looked  down  his  nose  for  consulta 
tion,  and  his  nose  gave  a  meditative  little  tweak. 

"What  Lake  is  it?  There's  some  several 
Lakes  round  here.  Is  it  Lake  of  Aqua  Chiquite 
— wears  his  hair  decollete;  talks  like  he  had  a 
washboard  in  his  throat;  tailor-made  face;  walks 
like  a  duck  on  stilts;  general  sort  of  pouter- 
pigeon  effect?  " 

At  this  envenomed  description,  Miss  Ellinor 
Hoffman  promptly  choked. 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  your  Aqua 
Chiquite.  I  never  heard  of  the  place  before. 
He  is  a  banker  in  Arcadia.  He  keeps  a  general 
store  there.  You  must  know  him,  surely."  So 
far  her  voice  was  rather  stern  and  purposely  re 
sentful,  as  became  Mr.  Lake's  guest;  but  there 
were  complications,  rankling  memories  of  Mr. 
Lake — of  unwelcome  attentions  persistently 
forced  upon  her.  She  spoiled  the  rebuke  by  add 
ing  tartly,  "  But  I  think  he  is  the  man  you  mean !  " 
and  felt  her  wrongs  avenged. 

The  cowboy's  face  cleared. 

"  Well,  I  don't  use  Arcadia  much,  you  sefc.  I 
mostly  range  down  Rainbow  River.  Arcadia 
folks — why,  they're  mostly  newcomers,  health- 
seekers  and  people  just  living  on  their  incomes — 
not  working  folks  much,  except  the  railroaders 
and  lumbermen.  Now  about  getting  home.  You 
see,  ma'am,  some  of  the  boys  are  riding  down 
that  way  " — he  jerked  his  thumb  to  indicate  the 


last  flight  of  the  imperfectly  gentle  horse — "  and 
they're  right  apt  to  see  my  runaway  eohippus  and 
sure  to  see  the  rope-drag;  so  they'll  likely  amble 
along  the  back  track  to  see  how  much  who's  hurt 
So  I  guess  I'd  better  stay  here.  They  may  be 
along  most  any  time.  Thank  you  kindly,  just  the 

same.  Of  course,  if  they  don't  come  at  all 

Is  your  camp  far?  " 

"  Not — not  very,"  said  Ellinor.  The  mere 
fact  was  that  Miss  Ellinor  had  set  out  ostensibly 
for  a  sketching  expedition  with  another  girl,  had 
turned  aside  to  explore,  and  exploring  had  fetched 
a  circuit  that  had  left  her  much  closer  to  her  start 
ing-place  than  to  her  goal.  He  misinterpreted  the 
slight  hesitation. 

"Well,  ma'am,  thank  you  again;  but  I  mustn't 
be  keeping  you  longer.  I  really  ought  to  see 
you  safe  back  to  your  camp;  but — you'll  under 
stand — under  the  circumstances — you'll  excuse 
me?" 

He  did  not  want  to  implicate  Mr.  Lake,  so 
he  took  a  limping  step  forward  to  justify  his 
rudeness. 

"And  you  hardly  able  to  walk?  Ridiculous! 
What  I  ought  to  do  is  to  go  back  to  camp  and 
get  some  one — get  Mr.  White  to  help  you." 
Thus,  at  once  accepting  his  unspoken  explanation, 
and  offering  her  own  apology  in  turn,  she  threw 
aside  the  air  of  guarded  hostility  that  had  marked 
,the  last  minutes  and  threw  herself  anew  into  this 


FIRST  AID  45 

joyous  adventure.  "  When — or  if — your  friends 
find  you,  won't  it  hurt  you  to  ride?  "  she  asked, 
and  smiled  deliberate  encouragement. 

"  I  can  be  as  modest  as  anybody  when  there's 
anything  to  be  modest  about;  but  in  this  case  I 
guess  I'll  now  declare  that  I  can  ride  anything 
that  a  saddle  will  stay  on.  .  .  .  I  reckon,"  he 
added  reflectively,  "  the  boys'll  have  right  smart 
to  say  about  me  being  throwed." 

"  But  you  weren't  thrown !  You  rode  mag 
nificently  !  "  Her  eyes  flashed  admiration. 

"  Yes'm.  That's  what  I  hoped  you'd  say,"  said 
the  admired  one  complacently.  "  Go  on,  ma'am. 
Say  it  again." 

"  It  was  splendid !  The  saddle  turned — that's 
all!" 

He  slowly  surveyed  the  scene  of  his  late  ex 
ploit. 

"  Ye — es,  that  was  some  riding — for  a  while," 
he  admitted.  "  But  you  see,  that  saddle  now, 
scarred  up  that  way — why,  they'll  think  the  eohip- 
pus  wasted  me  and  then  dragged  the  saddle  off 
under  a  tree.  Leastways,  they'll  say  they  think 
so,  frequent.  Best  not  to  let  on  and  to  make  no 
excuses.  It'll  be  easier  that  way.  We're  great 
on  guying  here.  That's  most  all  the  fun  we  have. 
We  sure  got  this  joshing  game  down  fine.  Just 
wondering  what  all  the  boys'd  say — that  was  why 
I  didn't  get  out  of  the  water  at  first,  before — 
before  I  thought  I  was  asleep,  you  know." 


46    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"  So  you'll  actually  tell  a  lie  to  keep  from  being 
thought  a  liar?  I'm  disappointed  in  you." 

"  Why,  ma'am,  I  won't  say  anything.  They'll 
do  the  talking." 

"  It'll  be  deceitful,  just  the  same,"  she  began, 
and  checked  herself  suddenly.  A  small  twinge 
struck  her  at  the  thought  of  poor  Maud,  really 
sketching  on  Thumb  Butte,  and  now  disconso 
lately  wondering  what  had  become  of  lunch  and 
fellow-artist;  but  she  quelled  this  pang  with  a 
sage  thought  of  the  greatest  good  to  the  greatest 
number,  and  clapped  her  hands  in  delight.  "  Oh, 
what  a  silly  I  am,  to  be  sure!  I've  got  a  lunch 
basket  up  there,  but  I  forgot  all  about  it  in  the 
excitement.  I'm  sure  there's  plenty  for  two. 
Shall  I  bring  it  down  to  you  or  can  you  climb  up 
if  I  help  you?  There's  water  in  the  canteen — 
and  it's  beautiful  up  there." 

"  I  can  make  it,  I  guess,"  said  the  invited  guest 
— the  consummate  and  unblushing  hypocrite. 
Make  it  he  did,  with  her  strong  hand  to  aid; 
and  the  glen  rang  to  the  laughter  of  them.  While 
behind  them,  all  unnoted,  Johnny  Dines  reined  up 
on  the  hillside;  took  one  sweeping  glance  at  that 
joyous  progress,  the  scarred  hillside,  the  saddle 
and  the  dejected  eohippus  in  the  background; 
grinned  comprehension,  and  discreetly  withdrew. 


CHAPTER  III 
MAXWELTON  BRAES 

"  Oh  the  song — the  song  in  the  blood ! 
Magic  walks  the  forest;  there's  bewitchment  on  the  air—* 
Spring  is  at  the  flood !  " 

— The  Gypsy  Heart. 

"Well,  sir,  this  here  feller,  he  lit  a  cigarette  an'  throwed 
away  the  match,  an'  it  fell  in  a  powder  kaig;  an'  do  you  know, 
more'n  half  that  powder  burned  up  before  they  could  put  it 
out !  Yes,  sir !  "^—WILDCAT  THOMPSON. 

ELLINOR  opened  her  basket  and  spread  its 
tempting  wares  with  pretty  hostly  care — or 
is  there  such  a  word  as  hostessly? 

"  .There!  All  ready,  Mr. I  declare,  this 

is  too  absurd !  We  don't  even  know  each  other's 
names!  "  Her  conscious  eye  fell  upon  the  am- 
pleness  of  the  feast — amazing,  since  it  purported 
to  have  been  put  up  for  one  alone;  and  her  face 
lit  up  with  mischievous  delight.  She  curtsied. 
11  If  you  please,  I'm  the  Ultimate  Consumer!  " 

He  rose,  bowing  gravely. 

"  I  am  the  Personal  Devil.    Glad  to  meet  you.*' 

"  Oh !  I've  heard  of  you !  "  remarked  the  Ulti 
mate  Consumer  sweetly.  She  sat  down  and  ex- 

47 


48    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

tended  her  hand  across  the  spotless  linen.  "  Mr. 
Lake  says " 

The  Personal  Devil  flushed.  It  was  not  be 
cause  of  the  proffered  hand,  which  he  took  un 
hesitatingly  and  held  rather  firmly.  The  blush 
was  unmistakably  caused  by  anger. 

"  There  is  no  connection  whatever,"  he  stated, 
grimly  enough,  "  between  the  truth  and  Mr. 
Lake's  organs  of  speech." 

"Oh!"  cried  the  Ultimate  Consumer  tri 
umphantly.  "  So  you're  Mr.  Beebe?  " 

"  Bransford — Jeff  Bransford,"  corrected  the 
Personal  Devil  crustily.  He  wilfully  relapsed  to 
his  former  slipshod  speech.  "  Beebe,  he's  gone  to 
the  Pecos  work,  him  and  Ballinger.  Mr.  John 
Wesley  Also-Ran  Pringle's  gone  to  Old  Mexico 
to  bring  back  another  bunch  of  black,  long-horned 
Chihuahuas.  You  now  behold  before  you  the  last 
remaining  Rose  of  Rosebud.  But,  why  Beebe?" 

"  Why  does  Mr.  Lake  hate  all  of  you  so,  Mr. 
Bransford?" 

"  Because  we  are  infamous  scoundrels.  Why 
Beebe?" 

"  I  can't  eat  with  one  hand,  Mr.  Brtnsford," 
she  said  demurely.  He  looked  at  the  prisoned 
hand  with  a  start  and  released  it  grudgingly. 
"  Help  yourself,"  said  his  hostess  cheerfully. 
"  There's  sandwiches,  and  roast  beef  and  olives, 
for  a  mild  beginning." 

"Why  Beebe?"  he  said  doggedly. 


MAXWELTON  BRAES  49 

"  Help  yourself  to  the  salad  and  then  please 
pass  it  over  this  way.  Thank  you." 

"WhyBeebe?" 

"  Oh,  very  well  then  I  Because  of  the  little 
eohippus,  you  know — and  other  things  you  said." 

"  I  see!  "  said  the  aggrieved  Bransford.  "  Be 
cause  I'm  not  from  Ohio,  like  Beebe,  I'm  not  sup 
posed " 

"Oh,  if  you're  going  to  be  fussy!  I'm  from 
California  myself,  Mr.  Bransford.  Out  in  the 
country  at  that.  Don't  let's  quarrel,  please.  We 
were  having  such  a  lovely  time.  And  I'll  tell  you 
a  secret.  It's  ungrateful  of  me,  and  I  ought  not 
to;  but  I  don't  care — I  don't  like  Mr.  Lake  much 
since  we  came  on  this  trip.  And  I  don't  be 
lieve "  She  paused,  pinkly  conscious  of  the 

unconventional  statement  involved  in  this  sudden 
unbelief. 

" what  Lake  says  about  us?  "  A  much- 
mollified  Bransford  finished  the  sentence  for  her. 

She  nodded.    Then,  to  change  the  subject: 

"  You  do  speak  cowboy  talk  one  minute — and 
all  booky,  polite  and  proper  the  next,  you  know. 
Why?  " 

"  Bad  associations,"  said  Bransford  ambigu 
ously.  "  Also  for  'tis  my  nature  to,  as  little  dogs 
they  do  delight  to  bark  and  bite.  [That  beef  sure 
tastes  like  more." 

•  o  •  »  c  •  • 

"  And  now  you  may  smoke  while  I  pack  up," 


50    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

announced  the  girl  when  dessert  was  over,  at  long 
last.  "  And  please,  there  is  something  I  want  to 
ask  you  about.  Will  you  tell  me  truly?  " 

"  Um — you  sing?  '* 

"  Yes— a  little." 

"  If  you  will  sing  for  me  afterward?  " 

"  Certainly.    With  pleasure." 

"  All  right,  then.    What's  the  story  about?  " 

Ellinor  gave  him  her  eyes.  "  Did  you  rob  the 
post-office  at  Escondido — really?" 

Now  it  might  well  be  embarrassing  to  be  asked 
if  you  had  committed  a  felony;  but  there  was  that 
behind  the  words  of  this  naive  query — in  look,  in 
tone,  in  mental  attitude — an  unflinching  and  im 
plicit  faith  that,  since  he  had  seen  fit  to  do  this 
thing,  it  must  needs  have  been  the  right  and  wise 
thing  to  do,  which  stirred  the  felon's  pulses  to 
a  pleasant  flutter  and  caused  a  certain  tough  and 
powerful  muscle  to  thump  foolishly  at  his  ribs. 
The  delicious  intimacy,  the  baseless  faith,  was 
sweet  to  him. 

"  Sure,  I  did !  "  he  answered  lightly.  "  Lake 
is  one  talkative  little  man,  isn't  he?  Fie,  fie! 
But,  shucks!  What  can  you  expect?  *  The  beast 
will  do  after  his  kind.' ' 

"  And  you'll  tell  me  about  it?  " 

"  After  I  smoke.  Got  to  study  up  some  plausi 
ble  excuses,  you  know." 

She  studied  him  as  she  packed.  It  was  a  good 
face — lined,  strong,  expressive,  vivid;  gay,  reso- 


MAXWELTON  BRAES  51 

lute,  confident,  alert — reckless,  perhaps.  There 
were  lines  of  it  disused,  fallen  to  abeyance.  What 
was  well  with  the  man  had  prospered;  what  was 
ill  with  him  had  faded  and  dimmed.  He  was  not 
a  young  man — thirty-seven,  thirty-eight — (she  was 
twenty-four) — but  there  was  an  unquenchable 
boyishness  about  him,  despite  the  few  frosty  hairs 
at  his  temples.  He  bore  his  hard  years  jauntily: 
youth  danced  in  his  eyes.  The  explorer  nodded 
to  herself,  well  pleased.  He  was  interesting — dif 
ferent. 

The  tale  suffered  from  Bransford's  telling,  as 
any  tale  will  suffer  when  marred  by  the  inevi 
table,  barbarous  modesty  of  its  hero.  It  was 
a  long  story,  cozily  confidential;  and  there  were 
interruptions.  The  sun  was  low  ere  it  was 
done. 

"Now  the  song,'1  said  Jeff,  "and  then " 

He  did  not  complete  the  sentence;  his  face 
clouded. 

"  What  shall  I  sing?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell?  What  you  will.  What  can 
I  know  about  good  songs — or  anything  else?" 
responded  Bransford  in  sudden  moodiness  and  de 
jection — for,  after  the  song,  the  end  of  every 
thing!  He  flinched  at  the  premonition  of  irrev 
ocable  loss. 

The  girl  made  no  answer.  This  is  what  she 
sang.  No;  you  shall  not  be  told  of  her  voice. 
Perhaps  there  is  a  voice  that  you  remember,  that 


52    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

echoes  to  you  through  the  dusty  years.    How 
would  you  like  to  describe  that? 

"  Oh,  Sandy  has  monie  and  Sandy  has  land, 
And  Sandy  has  housen,  sae  fine  and  sae  grand — 
But  I'd  rather  hae  Jamie,  wi'  nocht  in  his  hand, 
Than  Sandy,  wi'  all  of  his  housen  and  land. 

"  My  father  looks  sulky;  my  mither  looks  soor; 
They  gloom  upon  Jamie  because  he  is  poor. 
I  lo't  them  baith  dearly,  as  a  docther  should  do ; 
But  I  lo'e  them  not  half  sae  weel,  dear  Jamie,  as  you ! 

*'  I  sit  at  my  cribble,  I  spin  at  my  wheel ; 
I  think  o'  the  laddie  that  lo'es  me  sae  weel. 
Oh,  he  had  but  a  saxpence,  he  brak  it  in  twa, 
And  he  gied  me  the  half  o't  ere  he  gaed  awa' ! 

"  He  said :  '  Lo'e  me  lang,  lassie,  though  I  gang  awa' !  * 
He  said : '  Lo'e  me  lang,  lassie,  though  I  gang  awa'! ' 
Bland  simmer  is  cooming;  cauld  winter's  awa', 
And  I'll  wed  wi'  Jamie  in  spite  o'  them  a'!  " 

Jeff's  back  was  to  a  tree,  his  hat  over  his  eyes. 
He  pushed  it  up. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said;  and  then,  quite  directly: 
"Are  you  rich?" 

"  Not — very,"  said  Ellinor,  a  little  breathless 
at  the  blunt  query. 

"  I'm  going  to  be  rich,"  said  Jeff  steadily. 

"  *  I'm  going  to  be  a  horse,'  quoth  the  litde 


MAXWELTON  BRAES  53 

eohippus."  The  girl  retorted  saucily,  though  se 
cretly  alarmed  at  the  import  of  this  examination. 

"  Ex-actly.  So  that's  settled.  What  is  your 
name?  " 

"  Hoffman." 

"Where  do  you  live,  Hoffman?" 

"  Ellinor,"  supplemented  the  girl. 

"  Ellinor,  then.    Where  do  you  live,  Ellinor?  " 

"  In  New  York — just  now.  Not  in  town.  Up 
state.  On  a  farm.  You  see,  grandfather's  grow 
ing  old — and  he  wanted  father  to  come  back." 

"  New  York's  not  far,"  said  Jeff. 

'A  sudden  panic  seized  the  girl.  What  next? 
In  swift,  instinctive  self-defense  she  rose  and 
tripped  to  the  tree  where  lay  her  neglected  sketch 
book,  bent  over — and  started  back  with  a  little 
cry  of  alarm.  With  a  spring  and  a  rush,  Jeff  was 
at  her  side,  caught  her  up  and  glared  watchfully 
at  bush  and  shrub  and  tufted  grass. 

"  Mr.  Bransford !    Put  me  down !  " 

"  What  was  it?    A  rattlesnake?  " 

"  A  snake  ?  What  an  idea  1  I  just  noticed  how 
late  it  was.  I  must  go." 

Crestfallen,  sheepishly,  Mr.  Bransford  put  her 
down,  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  tilted  his 
chin  and  whistled  an  aggravating  little  trill  from 
the  Rye  twostep. 

"  Mr.  Bransford !  "  said  Ellinor  haughtily. 

Mr.  Bransford's  face  expressed  patient  atten 
tion. 


54    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"Are  you  lame?  " 

Mr.  Bransford's  eye  estimated  the  distance  cov 
ered  during  the  recent  snake  episode,  and  then 
gave  to  Miss  Hoffman  a  look  of  profound  respect. 
His  shoulders  humped  up  slightly;  his  head  bowed 
to  the  stroke :  he  stood  upon  one  foot  and  traced 
the  Rainbow  brand  in  the  dust  with  the  other. 

"  I  told  you  all  along  I  wasn't  hurt,"  he  said 
aggrieved.  "  Didn't  I,  now?  " 

"Are  you  lame?"  she  repeated  severely,  ig 
noring  his  truthful  saying. 

"  c  Not — very.'  "  The  quotation  marks  were 
clearly  audible. 

"  Are  you  lame  at  all?  " 

"  No,  ma'am — not  what  you  might  call  really 
lame.  Uh — no,  ma'am." 

"  And  you  deceived  me  like  that !  "  Indigna 
tion  checked  her.  "  Oh,  I  am  so  disappointed  in 
you!  That  was  a  fine,  manly  thing  for  you  to 
do!" 

"  It  was  such  a  lovely  time,"  observed  the  cul 
prit  doggedly.  "  And  such  a  chance  might  never 
happen  again.  And  it  isn't  my  fault  I  wasn't  hurt, 
you  know.  I'm  sure  I  wish  I  was." 

She  gave  him  an  icy  glare. 

"  Now  see  what  you've  done !  Your  men 
haven't  come  and  you  won't  stay  with  Mr.  Lake. 
How  are  you  going  to  get  home?  Oh,  I  forgot 
— you  can  walk,  as  you  should  have  done  at  first." 

The  guilty  wretch  wilted  yet  further.    He  shuf- 


MAXWELTON  BRAES  35 

fled  his  feet;  he  writhed;  he  positively  squirmed. 
He  ventured  a  timid  upward  glance.  It  seemed 
to  give  him  courage.  Prompted,  doubtless,  by 
the  same  feeling  which  drives  one  to  dive  head 
long  into  dreaded  cold  water,  he  said,  in  a  burst 
of  candor: 

"  Well,  you  see,  ma'am,  that  little  horse  now 
- — he  really  ain't  got  far.  He  got  tangled  up  over 
there  a  ways " 

The  girl  wheeled  and  shot  a  swift,  startled 
glance  at  the  little  eohippus  on  the  hillside,  who 
had  long  since  given  over  his  futile  struggles  and 
was  now  nibbling  grass  with  becoming  resigna 
tion.  She  turned  back  to  Bransford.  Slowly, 
scathingly,  she  looked  him  over  from  head  to 
foot  and  slowly  back  again.  Her  expression  ran 
the  gamut — wonder,  anger,  scorn,  withering  con 
tempt. 

"  I  think  I  hate  you !  "  she  flamed  at  him. 

Amazement  triumphed  over  the  other  emotions 
then — a  real  amazement:  the  detected  impostor 
had  resumed  his  former  debonair  bearing  and  met 
her  scornful  eye  with  a  slow  and  provoking  smile. 

"  Oh,  no,  you  don't,"  he  said  reassuringly. 
"  On  the  contrary,  you  don't  hate  me  at  all !  " 

"  I'm  going  home,  anyhow,"  she  retorted  bit 
terly.  "  You  may  draw  your  own  conclusions." 

Still,  she  did  not  go,  which  possibly  had  a  con 
fusing  effect  upon  his  inferences. 

"  Just  one  minute,  ma'am,  if  you  please.    How 


56    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

did  you  know  so  pat  where  the  little  black  horse 
was?  /  didn't  tell  you." 

Little  waves  of  scarlet  followed  each  other  to 
her  burning  face. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  stay  another  moment. 
You're  detestable !  And  it's  nearly  sundown." 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  hurry.    It's  not  far." 

She  followed  his  gesture.  To  her  intense  mor 
tification  she  saw  the  blue  smoke  of  her  home 
campfire  flaunting  up  from  a  gully  not  half  a  mile 
away.  It  was  her  turn  to  droop  now.  She 
drooped. 

There  was  a  painful  silence.  Then,  in  a  far-off, 
hard,  judicial  tone : 

"  How  long,  ma'am,  if  I  may  ask,  have  you 
known  that  the  little  black  horse  was  tangled 
up?" 

Miss  Ellinor's  eyes  shifted  wildly.  She  broke 
a  twig  from  a  mahogany  bush  and  examined  the 
swelling  buds  with  minutest  care. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  her  ruthless  inquisitor  sternly. 

*'  Since — since  I  went  for  your  hat,"  she  con 
fessed  in  a  half  whisper. 

"  To  deceive  me  so !  "  Pain,  grief,  surprise, 
reproach,  were  in  his  words.  "  Have  you  any 
thing  to  say?  "  he  added  sadly. 

A  slender  shoe  peeped  out  beneath  her  denim 
skirt  and  tapped  on  a  buried  boulder.  Ellinor 
regarded  the  toetip  with  interest  and  curiosity. 
Then,  half-audibly : 


MAXWELTON  BRAES  57 

"  We  were  having  such  a  good  time.  .  .  ., 
And  it  might  never  happen  again !  " 

He  captured  both  her  hands.  She  drew  back 
a  little — ever  so  little;  she  trembled  slightly,  but 
her  eyes  met  his  frankly  and  bravely. 

"  No,  no !  .  .  .  Not  now.  .  .  .  Go,  now, 
Mr.  Bransford.  Go  at  once.  We  will  have  a 
pleasant  day  to  remember." 

"  Until  the  next  pleasant  day,"  said  resolute 
Bransford,  openly  exultant.  "  But  see  here,  now 
— I  can't  go  to  Lake's  camp  or  to  Lake's  ball  " — 
here  Miss  Ellinor  pouted  distinctly — "  or  any 
thing  that  is  Lake's.  After  your  masked  ball, 
then  what?" 

"  New  York;  but  it's  only  so  far — on  the  map." 
She  held  her  hands  apart  very  slightly  to  indicate 
the  distance.  "  On  a  little  map,  that  is." 

"  I'll  drop  in  Saturdays,"  said  Jeff. 

"  Do !  I  want  to  hear  you  sing  the  rest  about 
the  little  eohippus." 

"  If  you'll  sing  about  Sandy!  "  suggested  Jeff. 

"  Why  not?    Good-by  now — I  must  go." 

"  And  you  won't  sing  about  Sandy  to  any  one 
else?" 

The  girl  considered  doubtfully. 

"  Why — I  don't  know — I've  known  you  for  a 
very  little  while,  if  you  please."  She  gathered  up 
her  belongings.  "  But  we're  friends?  " 

"No!  No!"  said  Jeff  vehemently.  "You 
won't  sing  it  to  any  one  else — Ellinor?  " 


58    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

She  drew  a  line  in  the  dust. 

**  If  you  won't  cross  that  line,"  she  said,  "  I'll 
tell  you." 

Mr.  Bransford  grasped  a  sapling  with  a  firm 
clutch  and  shook  it  to  try  its  strength. 

"  A  bird  in  the  bush  is  the  noblest  work  of 
God,"  he  announced.  "  I'll  take  a  chance." 

Her  eyes  were  shining. 

"You've  promised!"  she  said.  She  paused: 
when  she  spoke  again  her  voice  was  low  and  a 
trifle  unsteady.  "  I  won't  sing  about  Sandy  to — 
any  one  else — Jeff  I  " 

Then  she  fled. 

Like  Lot's  wife,  she  looked  back  from  the  hill 
side.  Jeff  clung  desperately  to  the  sapling  with 
one  hand ;  from  the  other  a  handkerchief — hers — 
fluttered  a  good-by  message.  She  threw  him  a 
farewell,  with  an  ambiguous  gesture. 

It  was  late  when  Jeff  reached  Rosebud  Camp. 
He  unsaddled  Nigger  Baby,  the  little  and  not  en 
tirely  gentle  black  horse,  rather  unobtrusively;  but 
Johnny  Dines  sauntered  out  during  the  process, 
announcing  supper. 

"  Huh !  "  sniffed  Jeff.  "  S'pose  I  thought  you'd 
wait  until  I  come  to  get  it?  " 

Nothing  more  alarming  than  tallies  was 
broached  during  supper,  however.  Afterward, 
Johnny  tilted  his  chair  back  and,  through  ciga- 


MAXWELTON  BRAES  '59 

rette  smoke,  contemplated  the  ceiling  with  inno 
cent  eyes. 

'*  Nigger  Babe  looks  drawed,"  he  suggested. 

"  Uh-huh.  Had  one  of  them  poor  spells  of 
his." 

Puff,  puff. 

"  Your  saddle's  skinned  up  a  heap." 

"  Run  under  a  tree." 

Johnny's  look  of  innocence  grew  more  pro 
nounced. 

" How'd  you  get  your  clothes  so  wet?" 

11  Rain,"  said  Jeff. 

Puff,  puff. 

"  You  look  right  muddy  too." 

"  Dust  in  the  air,"  said  Jeff. 

"  Ah ! — yes."  Silence  during  the  rolling  of  an 
other  cigarette.  Then:  "  How'd  you  get  that  cut 
on  your  head?  " 

Jeff's  hand  went  to  his  head  and  felt  the  bump 
there.  He  regarded  his  fingers  in  some  per 
plexity. 

"That?  Oh,  that's  where  I  bit  myself!"  He 
stalked  off  to  bed  in  gloomy  dignity. 

Half  an  hour  later  Johnny  called  softly: 

"Jeff!" 

Jeff  grunted  sulkily. 

"  Camping  party  down  near  Mayhill.  Lot  or 
girls.  I  saw  one  of  'em.  Young  person  with  eyes 
and  hair." 

Jeff  grunted  again.    There  was  a  long  silence. 


6o 

"  Nice  bear!  "    There  was  no  answer. 

"  Good  old  bear!  "  said  Johnny  tearfully.  No 
answer.  "  Mister  Bear,  if  I  give  you  one  nice, 
good,  juicy  bite " 

"  U—ugg—rrh!"  said  Jeff. 

"  Then,"  said  Johnny  decidedly,  "  I'll  sleep  in 
the  yard." 


THE  ROAD  DCO  ROME 

"Behold,   one   journeyed   in   the   night 
He  sang  amid  the  wind  and  rain; 
My  wet  sands  gave  his  feet  delight- 
When  will  that  traveler  come  again?" 
— The  Heart  of  the  Road, 

ANNA  HEMPSTEAD  BRANCH. 

A  HYPOTENUSE,  as  has  been  well  said,  is 
the  longest  side  of  a  right-angled  triangle. 
There  is  no  need  for  details.  That  we  are  all 
familiar  with  the  use  of  this  handy  little  article 
is  shown  by  the  existence  of  shortcuts  at  every 
available  opportunity,  and  by  keep-off-o'-the-grass 
signs  in  parks. 

Now,  had  Jeff  Bransford  desired  to  go  to  Ar 
cadia — to  that  masquerade,  for  instance — his 
direct  route  from  Jackson's  Ranch  would  have 
been  eater-cornered  across  the  desert,  as  has  been 
amply  demonstrated  by  Pythagoras  and  others. 

That  Jeff  did  not  want  to  go  to  Arcadia — to 
the  masked  ball,  for  instance — is  made  apparent 
by  the  fact  that  the  afternoon  preceding  said  ball 
saw  him  jogging  southward  toward  Baird's,  along 
the  lonely  base  of  that  inveterate  triangle  whereof 

61 


62     BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

Jackson's,  Baird's  and  Arcadia  are  the  respective 
corners,  leaving  the  fifty-five-mile  hypotenuse  far 
to  his  left.  It  was  also  obvious  from  the  tenor 
of  his  occasional  self-communings. 

"  I  don't  want  to  make  a  bally  fool  of  myself — 
do  I,  old  Grasshopper?  Anyhow,  you'll  be  too 
tired  when  we  get  to  'Gene's." 

Grasshopper  made  no  response,  other  than  a 
plucky  tossing  of  his  bit  and  a  quickening  cadence 
in  his  rhythmical  stride,  by  way  of  pardonable 
bravado. 

"  I  never  forced  myself  in  where  my  company 
wasn't  wanted  yet,  and  I  ain't  going  to  begin 
now,"  asserted  Jeff  stoutly;  adding,  as  a  fervent 
afterthought:  "  Damn  Lake!  " 

His  way  lay  along  the  plain,  paralleling  the 
long  westward  range,  just  far  enough  out  to  dodge 
the  jutting  foothills;  through  bare  white  levels 
where  Grasshopper's  hoofs  left  but  a  faint  trace 
on  the  hard-glazed  earth.  At  intervals,  tempting 
cross-roads  branched  away  to  mountain  springs. 
[The  cottonwood  at  Independent  Springs  came  into 
view  round  the  granite  shoulder  of  Strawberry, 
six  miles  to  the  right  of  him.  He  roused  himself 
from  prolonged  pondering  of  the  marvelous 
silhouette,  where  San  Andres  unflung  in  broken 
masses  against  the  sky,  to  remark  in  a  hushed 
whisper: 

"  I  wonder  if  she'd  be  glad  to  see  me?  " 

Several  miles  later  he  quoted  musingly: 


THE  ROAD  TO  ROME  63 

"  For  Ellinor — her  Christian  name  was  Ellinor — 
Had  twenty-seven  different  kinds  of  hell  in  her !  " 

After  all,  there  are  problems  which  Pythagoras 
never  solved. 

The  longest  road  must  have  an  end.  Ritch's 
Ranch  was  passed  far  to  the  right,  lying  low  in 
the  long  shadow  of  Kaylor;  then  the  mouth  of 
Hembrillo  Canon;  far  ahead,  a  shifting  flicker 
of  Baird's  windmill  topped  the  brush.  It  grew 
taller;  the  upper  tower  took  shape.  He  dipped 
into  the  low,  mirage-haunted  basin,  where  the 
age-old  Texas  Trail  crosses  the  narrow  western 
corner  of  the  White  Sands.  When  he  emerged 
the  windmill  was  tall  and  silver-shining;  the  low 
iron  roofs  of  the  house  gloomed  sullen  in  the  sun. 

Dust  rose  from  the  corral.  Now  Jeff's  ostensi 
ble  errand  to  the  West  Side  had  been  the  search 
for  strays;  three  days  before  he  had  prudently 
been  three  days'  ride  farther  to  the  north.  The 
reluctance  with  which  he  had  turned  back  south 
ward  was  justified  by  the  fact  that  this  critical 
afternoon  found  him  within  striking  distance  of 
Arcadia — striking  distance,  that  is,  should  he  care 
for  a  bit  of  hard  riding.  This  was  exactly  what 
Jeff  had  fought  against  all  along.  So,  when  he 
saw  the  dust,  he  loped  up. 

It  was  as  he  had  feared.  A  band  of  horses  was 
in  the  waterpen;  among  them  a  red-roan  head  he 
knew — Copperhead,  of  Pringle's  mount;  con- 


€4    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

firmed  runaway.  Jeff  shut  the  gate.  For  the  first 
time  that  day,  he  permitted  himself  a  discreet 
glance  eastward  to  Arcadia. 

"  Three  days,"  he  said  bitterly,  while  Grass 
hopper  thrust  his  eager  muzzle  into  the  water- 
trough  —  "  three  days  I  have  braced  back  my  feet 
and  slid,  like  a  yearlin'  at  a  brandin'  bee  —  and 
look  at  me  now!  Oh,  Copperhead,  you  darned 
old  fool,  see  what  you  done  now!  " 

In  this  morose  mood  he  went  to  the  house. 
There  was  no  one  at  home.  A  note  was  tacked 
on  the  door. 

Gone  to  Plomo.  Back  in  two  or  three  days.  Beef  hangt 
under  platform  on  windmill  tower.  When  you  get  it, 
oil  the  mill.  Books  and  deck  of  cards  in  box  under  bed* 
Don't  leave  fire  in  stove  when  you  go. 

GENE  BAIRD. 

N.  B.-—  Feed  the  cat. 


Jeff  built  a  fire  in  the  stove  and  unsaddled 
weary  Grasshopper.  He  found  some  corn,  which 
he  put  into  a  woven-grass  morral  and  hung  on 
Grasshopper's  nose.  He  went  to  the  waterpen, 
roped  out  Copperhead  and  shut  him  in  a  side 
corral.  Then  he  let  the  bunch  go.  They  strained 
through  the  gate  in  a  mad  run,  despite  shrill  and 
frantic  remonstrance  from  Copperhead. 

"  Jeff,"  said  Jeff  soberly,  "  are  you  going  to  be 
a  damned  fool  all  your  life?    That  girl  doesn't 


THE  ROAD  TO  ROME  65 

care  anything  about  you.  She  hasn't  thought  of 
you  since.  You  stay  right  here  and  read  the  pretty 
books.  That's  the  place  for  you." 

jThis  advice  was  sound  and  wise  beyond  cavil. 
So  Jeff  took  it  valiantly.  After  supper  he  hobbled 
Grasshopper  and  took  off  the  nosebag.  Then  he 
went  to  the  back  room  in  pursuit  of  literature. 

Have  I  leave  for  a  slight  digression,  to  commit 
a  long-delayed  act  of  justice — to  correct  a  griev 
ous  wrong?  Thank  you. 

We  hear  much  of  Mr.  Andrew  Carnegie  and 
His  Libraries,  the  Hall  of  Fame,  the  Little  Red 
Schoolhouse,  the  Five-Foot  Shelf,  and  the  World's 
Best  Books.  A  singular  thing  is  that  the  most 
effective  bit  of  philanthropy  along  these  lines  has 
gone  unrecorded  of  a  thankless  world.  This  shall 
no  longer  be. 

Know,  then,  that  once  upon  a  time  a  certain 
soulless  corporation,  rather  in  the  tobacco  trade, 
placed  in  each  package  of  tobacco  a  coupon,  each 
coupon  redeemable  by  one  paper-bound  book. 
Whether  they  were  moved  by  remorse  to  this  ac 
tion  or  by  sordid  hidden  purposes  of  their  own, 
or,  again,  by  pure,  disinterested  and  farseeing  love 
of  their  kind,  is  not  yet  known;  but  the  results 
remain.  There  were  three  hundred  and  three  vol 
umes  on  that  list,  mostly — but  not  altogether — 
fiction.  And  each  one  was  a  classic.  Classics  are 
cheap.  They  are  not  copyrighted.  Could  I  but 


66    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

know  the  anonymous  benefactor  who  enrolled  that 
glorious  company,  how  gladly  would  I  drop  a  leaf 
on  his  bier  or  a  cherry  in  his  bitters ! 

[Thus  it  was  that,  in  one  brief  decade,  the  cow 
boys,  with  others,  became  comparatively  literate. 
Cowboys  all  smoked.  Doubtless  that  was  a  chief 
cause  contributory  to  making  them  the  wrecks  they 
were.  It  destroyed  their  physique;  it  corroded 
and  ate  away  their  will  power — leaving  them 
seldom  able  to  work  over  nineteen  hours  a  day, 
except  in  emergencies;  prone  to  abandon  duty  in 
the  face  of  difficulty  or  danger,  when  human  effort, 
raised  to  the  «th  power,  could  do  no  more — all 
things  considered,  the  most  efficient  men  of  their 
hands  on  record. 

Cowboys  all  smoked:  and  the  most  deep- 
seated  instinct  of  the  human  race  is  to  get  some 
thing  for  nothing.  They  got  those  books.  In  due 
course  of  time  they  read  those  books.  Some  were 
slow  to  take  to  it;  but  when  you  stay  at  lonely 
ranches,  when  you  are  left  afoot  until  the  water- 
holes  dry  up,  so  you  may  catch  a  horse  in  the 
waterpen — why,  you  must  do  something.  The 
books  were  read.  Then,  having  acquired  the 
habit,  they  bought  more  books.  Since  the  three 
hundred  and  three  were  all  real  books,  and  since 
the  cowboys  had  been  previously  uncorrupted  of 
predigested  or  sterilized  fiction,  or  by  "  gift," 
"  uplift  "  and  "  helpful  "  books,  their  composite 
taste  had  become  surprisingly  good,  and  they 


THE  ROAD  TO  ROME  67 

bought  with  discriminating  care.  Nay,  more.  A 
bookcase  follows  books;  a  bookcase  demands  a 
house;  a  house  needs  a  keeper;  a  housekeeper 
needs  everything.  Hence  alfalfa — houseplants — 
slotless  tables — bankbooks.  The  chain  which  be 
gan  with  yellow  coupons  ends  with  Christmas 
trees.  In  some  proudest  niche  in  the  Hall  of 
Fame  a  grateful  nation  will  yet  honor  that  hith 
erto  unrecognized  educator,  Front  de  Boeuf.* 

•  ••*•»• 

Jeff  pawed  over  the  tattered  yellow-backed  vol 
umes  in  profane  discontent.  He  had  read  them 
all.  Another  box  was  under  the  bed,  behind  the 
first.  Opening  it,  he  saw  a  tangled  mass  of  cloth 
ing,  tumbled  in  the  bachelor  manner;  with  the 
rest,  a  much-used  football  outfit — canvas  jacket, 
sweater,  padded  trousers,  woolen  stockings,  rubber 
noseguard,  shinguards,  ribbed  shoes — all  com 
plete;  for  'Gene  Baird  was  fullback  of  the  El 
Paso  eleven. 

Jeff  segregated  the  gridiron  wardrobe  with 
hasty  hands.  His  eye  brightened ;  he  spoke  in  an 
awed  and  almost  reverent  voice. 

"  I  ain't  mostly  superstitious,  but  this  looks  like 
a  leading.  First,  I'm  here;  second,  Copperhead's 
here;  third,  no  one  else  is  here;  and,  for  the  final 
miracle,  here's  a  costume  made  to  my  hand. 
[Thirty-five  miles.  Ten  o'clock,  if  I  hurry.  H'm ! 

•"Bull  Durham." 


68    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

'  When  first  I  put  this  uniform  on  ' — how  did  that 
go?  I'm  forgetting  all  my  songs.  Getting  old,  I 
guess." 

Rejecting  the  heavy  shoes,  as  unmeet  for  waxed 
floors,  and  the  shinguards,  he  rolled  the  rest  of  the 
uniform  in  his  slicker  and  tied  it  behind  his  saddle. 
Then  he  rubbed  his  chin. 

"  Huh !  That's  a  true  saying,  too.  I  am  get 
ting  old.  Youth  turns  to  youth.  Buck  up,  Jeff, 
you  old  fool!  Have  some  pride  about  you  and 
just  a  little  old  horse-sense." 

Yet  he  unhobbled  Grasshopper,  who  might  then 
be  trusted  to  find  his  way  to  Rainbow  in  about 
three  days.  He  went  to  the  corral  and  tossed  a 
rope  on  snorting  Copperhead.  "No;  I  won't 
go !  "  he  said,  as  he  slipped  on  the  bridle.  "  Just 
to  uncock  old  Copperhead,  I'll  make  a  little  horse- 
ride  to  Hospital  Springs  and  look  through  the 
stock."  He  threw  on  the  saddle  with  some  dif 
ficulty — Copperhead  was  fat  and  frisky.  "  She 
don't  want  to  see  you,  Jeff — an  old  has-been  like 
you !  No,  no ;  I'd  better  not  go.  I  won't !  There, 
if  I  didn't  leave  that  football  stuff  on  the  saddle ! 
I'll  take  it  off.  It  might  get  lost.  Whoa,  Copper 
head!" 

Copperhead,  however,  declined  to  whoa  on  any 
terms.  His  eyes  bulged  out;  he  reared,  he  pawed, 
he  snorted,  he  bucked,  he  squealed,  he  did  any 
thing  but  whoa.  Exasperated,  Jeff  caught  the 
bridle  by  the  cheek  piece  and  swung  into  the  sad- 


THE  ROAD  TO  ROME  69 

die.  After  a  few  preliminaries  in  the  pitch 
ing  line,  Jeff  started  bravely  for  Hospital 
Springs. 

It  was  destined  that  this  act  of  renunciation 
should  be  thwarted.  Copperhead  stopped  and  dug 
his  feet  in  the  ground  as  if  about  to  take  root. 
Jeff  dug  the  spurs  home.  With  an  agonized  bawl, 
Copperhead  made  a  creditable  ascension,  shook 
himself  and  swapped  ends  before  he  hit  the  ground 
again.  "  Wooh!  "  he  said.  His  nose  was  headed 
now  for  Arcadia;  he  followed  his  nose,  his 
roan  flanks  fanned  vigorously  with  a  doubled 
rope. 

"Headstrong,  stubborn,  unmanageable  brute! 
Oh,  well,  have  it  your  own  way  then,  you  old 
fool!  You'll  be  sorry  I"  Copperhead  leaped  out 
to  the  loosened  rein.  "  This  is  just  plain  kid 
napping!  "  said  Jeff. 

Kidnapped  and  kidnapper  were  far  out  on  the 
plain  as  night  came  on.  Arcadia  road  stretched 
dimly  to  the  east;  the  far  lights  of  La  Luz  flashed 
through  the  leftward  dusk;  straight  before  them 
was  a  glint  and  sparkle  in  the  sky,  faint,  diffused, 
wavering;  beyond,  a  warm  and  mellow  glow  broke 
the  blackness  of  the  mountain  wall,  where  the 
lights  of  low-hidden  Arcadia  beat  up  against  Rain 
bow  Rim. 

Jeff  was  past  his  first  vexation;  he  sang  as  he 
rode: 


70    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"  There  was  ink  on  her  thumb  when  I  kissed  her  hand, 

And  she  whispered :  '  If  you  should  die 
I'd  write  you  an  epitaph,  gloomy  and  grand!' 
'  Time  enough  for  that ! '  says  I. 

"Keep  a-movin  here,  Copperhead!  Time 
fugits  right  along.  "You  will  play  hooky,  will  you  ? 
*  I'm  going  to  be  a  horse ! '  " 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  MASKERS 

"For  Ellinor  (her  Christian  name  was  Ellinor) 
Had  twenty-seven  different  kinds  of  hell  in  her." 

— RICHARD  HOVEY. 

IT  lacked  little  of  the  eleventh  hour  when  the 
football  player  reached  the  ballroom — last 
comer  to  the  revels.  A  bandage  round  his  head 
and  a  rubber  noseguard,  which  also  hid  his  mouth, 
served  for  a  mask,  eked  out  by 'crisscrossed  strips 
of  courtplaster.  One  arm  was  in  a  sling — for 
stage  purposes  only. 

As  he  limped  through  the  door,  Diogenes 
hurried  to  meet  him,  held  up  his  lantern,  peered 
hopefully  into  the  battered  face  and  shook  his 
disappointed  head.  "  Stung  again !  "  muttered 
Diogenes. 

Jeff  lisped  in  numbers  which  fully  verified  the 
cynic's  misgiving.  "  7 — 1 1 — 4 — 1 1 — 44 !  "  he  an 
nounced  jerkily.  This  was  strictly  in  character 
and  also  excused  him  from  entangling  talk,  leav 
ing  him  free  to  search  the  whirl  of  dancers. 

A  bulky  Rough  Rider  volunteered  his  help.  He 
fixed  a  gleaming  eyeglass  on  his  nose  and  politely 

71 


72    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

offered  Jeff  a  Big  Stick  by  way  of  a  crutch.  "  Hit 
the  line  hard!"  he  barked.  He  bit  the  words 
off  with  a  prize-bulldog  effect.  He  had  fine  teeth. 

Jeff  waved  him  off.  '*  16 — 2 — i!"  he  pro 
claimed  controversially.  He  felt  his  spirits  sink 
ing,  with  a  growing  doubt  of  his  ability  to  identify 
the  Only  One,  and  was  impatient  of  interruption. 
He  kept  his  slow  and  watchful  way  down  the 
floor. 

Topsy  broke  away  from  her  partner  and 
stopped  Jeff's  crippled  progress.  Her  short  hair, 
braided  to  a  dozen  tight  and  tiny  pigtails,  bristled 
away  in  all  directions. 

"  Laws,  young  marsta',  you  suhtenly  does  look 
puny!  "  she  said.  Then  she  clutched  at  her  knee. 
"  Aie!"  she  tittered,  as  a  loose  red  stocking 
dropped  flappingly  to  her  ankle.  Pray  do  not  be 
shocked.  The  effect  was  startling;  but  a  black 
stocking,  decorously  tight  and  smooth,  was  be 
neath  the  red  one.  Jeff's  mathematics  were  not 
equal  to  the  strain  of  adequate  comment.  Topsy 
dived  to  the  rescue.  "  Got  a  string?  "  she  giggled, 
as  she  hitched  the  fallen  stocking  back  to  place. 
"  I  cain't  fix  this  good  nohow!  " 

Jeff  jerked  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder.  "  Man 
over  there  with  an  eyeglass  cord — maybe  you  can 
get  that.  What  makes  you  act  so?  "  He  looked 
cold  disapproval;  nevertheless,  he  looked. 

Topsy  hung  her  head,  still  clutching  at  the 
stocking-top.  "  Dunno.  I  spec's  it's  'cause  Ise  so 


THE  MASKERS  73 

wicked !  "  Finger  in  mouth,  she  looked  after  Jeff 
as  he  hobbled  away. 

A  slender  witch  bounced  from  a  chair  and 
barred  his  way  with  a  broom.  Her  eyes  were 
brimming  sorcery;  her  lips  looked  saucy  chal 
lenge;  she  leaned  close  for  a  whispered  word 
in  his  ear:  "How  would  you  like  to  tackle 
me?" 

Poor  Jeff!  "  10,  2 — 10,  2!"  he  promised 
huskily.  Yet  he  ducked  beneath  the  broom. 

"  But,"  said  the  little  witch  plaintively,  "  you're 
going  away!  "  She  dropped  her  broom  and  wept. 

"  8,  2 — 8,  2 — 8,  2 !  "  said  Jeff,  almost  in  tears 
himself,  and  again  fell  back  upon  English. 
"  Mere  figures  or  mere  words  can't  tell  you  how 
much  I  hate  to;  but  I've  got  to  follow  the  ball. 
I'm  looking  for  a  fellow." 

"  If  he — if  he  doesn't  love  you,"  sobbed  the 
stricken  witch,  "  then  you'll  come  back  to  me — 
won't  you?  I  love  a  liar!  " 

"  To  the  verv  stake ! "  vowed  Jeff.  Such 
heroic,  if  conditional,  constancy  was  not  to  go  un 
rewarded.  A  couple  detached  themselves  from 
the  'dancers,  threaded  their  way  to  a  corner  of  the 
long  hall  and  stood  there  in  deep  converse.  Jeff 
quickened  pulse  and  pace — for  one  was  a  Red 
Devil  and  the  other  wore  the  soft  gray  costume 
of  a  Friend.  She  was  tall,  this  Quakeress,  and 
the  hobnobbing  devil  was  of  Jeff's  own  height. 
Jeff  began  to  hope  for  a  goal. 


74   BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

Briskly  limping,  he  came  to  this  engrossed 
couple  and  laid  a  friendly  hand  on  the  devil's 
shoulder. 

"  Brother,"  he  said  cordially,  "  will  you  please 
go  to — home?  " 

The  devil  recoiled  an  astonished  step. 

"  What  ?    What ! !    Show  me  your  license !  " 

"Twenty-three! — Please! — there's  a  good 
devil — 23 !  I'm  the  right  guard  for  this  lady,  I 
hope.  Oh,  please  to  go  home!  " 

The  devil  took  this  request  in  very  bad  part. 

"  Go  back  fifteen  yards  for  offside  play  and 
take  a  drop  kick  at  yourself ! "  he  suggested 
sourly. 

A  burly  policeman,  plainly  conscious  of  fitting 
his  uniform,  paused  for  warning. 

"  No  scrappin'  now  I  Don't  start  nothin'  or  I'll 
run  in  the  t'ree  av  yees!  "  he  said,  and  sauntered 
on,  twirling  a  graceful  nightstick. 

"  Thee  is  a  local  man,  judging  from  thy  let 
ters,"  said  the  Quaker  lady,  to  relieve  the  some 
what  strained  situation.  "  What  do  they  stand 
for?  E.  P.?  Oh,  yes— El  Paso,  of  course!" 

"  I  saw  you  first !  "  said  the  Red  Devil.  "  And 
with  your  disposition  you  would  naturally  find  me 
more  suitable.  Make  your  choice  of  gridirons! 
Send  him  back  to  the  side  lines!  Disqualify  him 
for  interference !  " 

"  Don't  be  hurried  into  a  decision,"  said  Jeff. 
"  Eternity  is  a  good  while.  Before  it's  over  I'm 


THE  MASKERS  75] 

going  to  be  a — well,  something  more  than  a  foot 
baller.  Golf,  maybe — or  tiddledywinks." 

The  Quakeress  glanced  attentively  from  one 
to  the  other. 

"  Doubtless  he  will  do  his  best  to  forward  jThy 
Majesty's  interests,"  she  interposed.  "  Why  not 
give  him  a  chance  ?  " 

The  devil  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  always 
prefer  to  give  this  branch  of  work  my  personal 
attention,"  he  said  stiffly. 

"  A  specialty  of  thine?  "  mocked  the  girl. 

The  devil  bowed  sulkily. 

"  My  heart  is  in  it.  Of  course,  if  you  prefer 
the  bungling  of  a  novice,  there  is  no  more  to  be 
said." 

"  Thy  Majesty's  manners  have  never  been 
questioned,"  murmured  the  Quakeress,  bowing 
dismissal.  "  So  kind  of  you !  " 

The  devil  bowed  deeply  and  turned,  pausing 
to  hurl  a  gloomy  prophecy  over  his  shoulder. 
"  See  you  later!  "  he  said,  and  stalked  away  with 
an  ill  grace. 

Pigskin  hero  and  girl  Friend,  left  alone,  eyed 
each  other  with  mutual  apprehension.  The  girl 
Friend  was  first  to  recover  speech.  Her  red  lips 
were  prim  below  her  vizor,  her  eyes  downcast 
to  hide  their  dancing  lights.  ,Timidly  she  spread 
out  fanwise  the  dove  color  of  her  sober  cos 
tume. 

"  How  does  thee  like  my  gray  gown?  " 


76    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Jeff  brutally.  "  You're  no 
friend  of  mine,  I  hope." 

A  most  un-Quakerlike  dimple  trembled  to  her 
chin,  relieving  the  firm  austerity  of  straight  lips. 
Also,  Jeff  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  eyes  through 
the  vizor.  They  were  crinkling — and  they  were 
brown.  She  ventured  another  tentative  remark, 
and  there  was  in  it  an  undertone  lingering,  softly 
confidential. 

"Istheelame?" 

"  Not — very,"  said  Jeff,  and  saw  a  faint  color 
start  to  the  unmasked  moiety  of  the  Quaker  cheek. 
41  Still,  if  I  may  have  the  next  dance,  I  shall  be 
glad  if  you  will  sit  it  out  with  me."  Painfully 
he  raised  the  beslinged  arm  in  explanation.  Sobre 
las  Olas  throbbed  out  its  wistful  call;  they  set 
their  thought  to  its  haunting  measure. 

"  By  all  means !  "  She  took  his  undamaged 
arm.  "  Let  us  find  chairs." 

Now  there  were  chairs  to  the  left  of  them, 
chairs  to  the  right  of  them,  chairs  vacant  every 
where;  but  the  gallant  Six  Hundred  themselves 
were  not  more  heedless  or  undismayed  than  these 
two.  Still,  all  the  world  did  not  wonder.  On  the 
contrary,  not  even  the  anxious  devil  saw  them 
after  they  passed  behind  a  knot  of  would-be 
dancers  who  were  striving  to  disentangle  them 
selves.  For,  seeing  traffic  thus  blocked,  the  po 
liceman  rushed  to  unsnarl  the  tangle.  Magnifi 
cently  he  flourished  his  stick.  He  adjured  them 


THE  MASKERS  77 

roughly:  "Move  on,  yous!  Move  on!" 
Whereat,  with  one  impulse,  the  tangle  moved  on 
the  copper,  swept  over  him,  engulfed  him,  hustled 
him  to  the  door  and  threw  him  out. 

So  screened,  the  chair-hunters  vanished  in  far 
less  than  a  psychological  moment:  for  Jeff,  in 
obedience  to  a  faint  or  fancied  pressure  on  his 
arm,  dived  through  portieres  into  a  small  room 
set  apart  for  such  as  had  the  heart  to  prefer  cards 
or  chess.  The  room  was  deserted  now  and  there 
was  a  broad  window  open  to  the  night.  Thus, 
thrice  favored  of  Providence,  they  found  them 
selves  in  the  garden,  chairless  but  cheerful. 

A  garden  with  one  Eve  is  the  perfect  combina 
tion  in  a  world  awry.  Muffled,  the  music  and  the 
sounds  of  the  ballroom  came  faint  and  far  to 
them;  star-made  shadows  danced  at  their  feet. 
The  girl  paused,  expectant;  but  it  was  the  unex 
pected  that  happened.  The  nimble  tongue  which 
had  done  such  faithful  service  for  Mr.  Bransford 
now  failed  him  quite:  left  him  struggling,  dumb, 
inarticulate,  helpless — tongue  and  hand  alike  for 
getful  of  their  cunning. 

Be  sure  the  maid  had  adroitly  heard  much  of 
Mr.  Bransford,  his  deeds  and  misdeeds,  during 
the  tedious  interval  since  their  first  meeting.  Re 
port  had  dwelt  lovingly  upon  Mr.  Bransford's 
eloquence  at  need.  This  awkward  silence  was  a 
tribute  of  sincerity  above  question. 

With  difficulty  Ellinor  mastered  a  wild  desire 


78    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

to  ask  where  the  cat  had  gone.  "  Oh,  come  ye 
in  peace  here  or  come  ye  in  war?"  Such  inju 
dicious  quotation  trembled  on  the  tip  of  her 
tongue,  but  she  suppressed  it — barely  in  time. 
She  felt  herself  growing  nervous  with  the  fear  lest 
she  should  be  hurried  into  some  all  too  luminous 
speech.  And  still  Jeff  stood  there,  lost,  speech 
less,  helpless,  unready,  a  clumsy  oaf,  an  object  of 
pity.  Pity  at  last,  or  a  kindred  feeling,  drove  her 
to  the  rescue.  And,  just  as  she  had  feared,  she 
said,  in  her  generous  haste,  far  too  much. 

"  I  thought  you  were  not  coming?  " 

The  inflection  made  a  question  of  this  state 
ment.  Also,  by  implication,  it  answered  so  many 
questions  yet  unworded  that  Jeff  was  able  to  use 
his  tongue  again ;  but  it  was  not  the  trusty  tongue 
of  yore — witness  this  wooden  speech: 

'  You  mean  you  thought  I  said  I  wasn't  coming 
— don't  you?  You  knew  I  would  come." 

"  Indeed?  How  should  I  know  what  you  would 
do  ?  I've  only  seen  you  once.  Aren't  you  forget 
ting  that?" 

"  Why  else  did  you  make  up  as  a  Friend 
then?" 

"  Oh !  Oh,  dear,  these  men  I  There's  conceit 
for  you !  I  chose  my  costume  solely  to  trap  Mr. 
Bransford's  eye?  Is  that  it?  Doubtless  all  my 
thoughts  have  centered  on  Mr.  Bransford  since  I 
first  saw  him !  " 


THE  MASKERS  79 

"  You  know  I  didn't  mean  that,  Miss  Ellinor. 


I- 


**  Miss  Hoffman,  if  you  please!  " 

"  Miss  Hoffman.  Don't  be  mean  to  me.  I've 
only  got  an  hour " 

"An  hour!  Do  you  imagine  for  one  sec 
ond Why,  I  mustn't  stay  here.  This  is 

really  a  farewell  dance  given  in  my  honor.  We 
go  back  East  day  after  to-morrow.  I  must  go 
in." 

"  Only  one  little  hour.  And  I  have  come  a 
long  ways  for  my  hour.  They  take  their  masks 
off  at  midnight — don't  they?  And  of  course  I 
can't  stay  after  that.  I  want  only  just  to  ask 
you " 

"  Why  did  you  come  then?  Isn't  it  rather  un 
usual  to  go  uninvited  to  a  ball?  " 

"  Why,  I  reckon  you  nearly  know  why  I  come, 
Miss  Hoffman;  but  if  you  want  me  to  say  pre 
cisely,  ma'am " 

"  I  don't!  " 

"  We'll  keep  that  for  a  surprise,  then.  Another 
thing:  I  wanted  to  find  out  just  where  you  live  in 
New  York.  I  forgot  to  ask  you.  And  I  couldn't 
very  well  go  round  asking  folks  after  you're  gone 
— could  I  ?  Of  course  I  didn't  have  any  invitation 
— from  Mr.  Lake;  but  I  thought,  if  he  didn't 
know  it,  he  wouldn't  mind  me  just  stepping  in  to 
get  your  address." 

"Well,  of  all  the  assurance!"  said  Miss  El- 


8o    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

linor.  "  Do  you  intend  to  start  up  a  correspond 
ence  with  me  without  even  the  formality  of  asking 
my  consent?  " 

"  Why,  Miss  Ellinor,  ma'am,  I  thought " 

"  Miss  Hoffman,  sir !  Yes — and  there's  an 
other  thing.  You  said  you  had  no  invitation — 
from  Mr.  Lake.  Does  that  mean,  by  any  chance, 
that  I  invited  you?  " 

"  You  didn't  say  a  word  about  my  coming," 
said  Jeff.  He  was  a  flustered  man,  this  poor 
Bransford,  but  he  managed  to  put  a  slight  stress 
upon  the  word  "  say." 

Miss  Ellinor — Miss  Hoffman — caught  this 
faint  emphasis  instantly. 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  say  anything?  I  just  looked  an 
invitation,  I  suppose?  "  she  stormed.  "  Melting 
eyes — and  that  sort  of  thing?  Tears  in  them, 
maybe  ?  Poor  girl !  Poor  little  child !  It  would 
be  cruel  to  let  her  go  home  without  seeing  me 
again.  I  will  give  her  a  little  more  happiness, 
poor  thing,  and  write  to  her  a  while.  Maybe  it 
would  be  wiser,  though,  just  to  make  a  quarrel 
and  break  loose  at  once.  She'll  get  over  it  in 
a  little  while  after  she  gets  back  to  New  York. 
Well !  Upon  my  word !  " 

As  she  advanced  these  horrible  suppositions, 
Miss  Hoffman  had  marked  out  a  short  beat  of 
garden  path — five  steps  and  a  turn;  five  steps  back 
and  whirl  again — with,  on  the  whole,  a  caged- 
tigress  effect.  With  a  double-quick  at  each  turn 


THE  MASKERS  81 

to  keep  his  place  at  her  elbow,  Jeff,  utterly  aghast 
at  the  damnable  perversity  of  everything  on 
earth,  vainly  endeavored  to  make  coordinate  and 
stumbling  remonstrance.  As  she  stopped  for 
breath,  Jeff  heard  his  own  voice  at  last,  propound 
ing  to  the  world  at  large  a  stunned  query  as  to 
whether  the  abode  of  lost  spirits  could  afford 
aught  to  excel  the  present  situation.  The  remark 
struck  him:  he  paused  to  wonder  what  other 
things  he  had  been  saying. 

Miss  Ellinor  walked  her  beat,  vindictive.  Her 
chin  was  at  an  angle  of  complacency.  She  turned 
up  the  perky  corners  of  an  imaginary  mustache 
with  an  air,  an  exasperating  little  finger,  separated 
from  the  others,  pointing  upward  in  hateful  self- 
satisfaction.  Her  mouth  wore  a  gratified  mas 
culine  smirk,  visible  even  in  the  starlight;  her 
gait  was  a  leisured  and  lordly  strut;  her  hand 
waved  airy  pity.  Jeff  shrank  back  in  horror. 

"  M-Miss  Hoffman,  I  n-never  d-dreamed " 

Miss  Hoffman  turned  upon  him  swiftly." 

"  Never  have  I  heard  anything  like  it — never! 
You  bring  me  out  here  willy-nilly,  and  by  way  of 
entertainment  you  virtually  accuse  me  of  throwing 
myself  at  your  head." 

"  I  never !  "  said  Jeff  indignantly.  "  I  did 
n't " 

Miss  Hoffman  faced  him  crouchingly  and  shook 
an  indictment  from  her  fingers. 

"  First,  you  imply  that  I  enticed  you  to  come ; 


second,  expecting  you,  I  dressed  to  catch  your 
eye;  third,  I  was  watching  eagerly  for  you " 

"  Come — I  say  now  1  "  The  baited  and  exas 
perated  victim  walked  headlong  into  the  trap. 
"  The  first  thing  you  did  was  to  ask  me  if  I  was 
lame?  Wasn't  that  question  meant  to  find  out 
who  I  was  ?  When  I  answered,  *  Not — very,' 
didn't  you  know  at  once  that  it  was  me?  " 

u  There  I  That  proves  exactly  what  I  was  just 
saying,"  raged  the  delighted  trapper.  "  You  don't 
even  deny  it!  You  say  in  so  many  words  that 
I  have  been  courting  you!  I  had  to  say  some 
thing — didn't  I  ?  You  wouldn't !  You  were  limp 
ing,  so  I  asked  you  if  you  were  lame.  What  else 
could  I  have  said?  Did  you  want  me  to  stand 
there  like  a  stuffed  Egyptian  mummy?  That's 
the  thanks  a  girl  gets  for  trying  to  help  a  great, 
awkward,  blundering  butter-fingers!  Oh,  if  you 
could  just  see  yourself!  The  irresistible  con 
queror!  Not  altogether  unprincipled  though! 
You  are  capable  of  compunction.  I'll  give  you 
credit  for  that.  Alarmed  at  your  easy  success, 
you  try  to  spare  me.  It  is  noble  of  you — noble! 
You  drag  me  out  here,  force  a  quarrel  upon 
me " 

"  Oh,  by  Jove  now!  Really!  "  Stung  by  the 
poignant  injustice  of  crowding  events,  Jeff  took 
the  bit  in  his  teeth  and  rushed  to  destruction. 
"  Really,  you  must  see  yourself  that  I  couldn't 
drag  you  out  here!  I  have  never  been  in  that 


THE  MASKERS  83 

hall  before.  I  didn't  know  the  lay  of  the  ground. 
I  didn't  even  know  that  little  side  room  was  there. 

I  thought  you  pressed  my  arm  a  little "  So 

the  brainless  colt,  in  the  quicksands,  flounders 
deeper  with  each  effort  to  extricate  himself. 

If  Miss  Hoffman  had  been  angry  before  she 
was  furious  now. 

"  So  that's  the  way  of  it?  Better  and  better!  7 
dragged  you  out!  Really,  Mr.  Bransford,  I  feel 
that  I  should  take  you  back  to  your  chaperon  at 
once.  You  might  be  compromised,  you  know !  " 

Goaded  to  desperation,  he  acted  on  this  hint 
at  once.  He  turned,  with  stiff  and  stilted  speech: 

"  I  will  take  you  back  to  the  window,  Miss 
Hoffman.  Then  there  is  nothing  for  me  to  do 
but  go.  I  am  sorry  to  have  caused  you  even  a 
moment's  annoyance.  To-morrow  you  will  see 
how  you  have  twisted — I  mean,  how  completely 
you  have  misinterpreted  everything  I  have  said. 
Perhaps  some  day  you  may  forgive  me.  Here  is 
the  window.  Good-night — good-by!" 

Miss  Hoffman  lingered,  however. 

"  Of  course,  if  you  apologize " 

"  I  do,  Miss  Hoffman.  I  beg  your  pardon  most 
sincerely  for  anything  I  have  ever  said  or  done 
that  could  hurt  you  in  any  way." 

"  If  you  are  sure  you  are  sorry — if  you  take 
it  all  back  and  will  never  do  such  a  thing  again — 
perhaps  I  may  forgive  you." 

"  I  won't — I  am — I  will!  "  said  the  abject  and 


84    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

groveling  wretch.  Which  was  incoherent  but 
pleasing.  "  I  didn't  mean  anything  the  way  you 
took  it;  but  I'm  sorry  for  everything." 

"  Then  I  didn't  beguile  you  to  come?  Or  mask 
as  a  Friend  in  the  hope  that  you  would  identify 
me?" 

"No,  no!" 

Miss  Ellinor  pressed  her  advantage  cruelly. 
"  Nor  take  stock  of  each  new  masker  to  see  if  he 
possibly  wasn't  the  expected  Mr.  Bransford? 
Nor  drag  you  into  the  garden  ?  Nor  squeeze  your 
arm?  "  Her  hands  went  to  her  face,  her  lissome 
body  shook.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Bransford !  "  she  sobbed 
between  her  fingers.  "  How  could  you — how 
could  you  say  that?  " 

The  clock  chimed.  A  pealing  voice  beat  out 
into  the  night:  "  Masks  off !  "  A  hundred  voices 
swelled  the  cry;  it  was  drowned  in  waves  of 
laughter.  It  rose  again  tumultuously :  "Masks 
off  Masks  off!  "  Nearer  came  hateful  voices, 
too,  that  cried:  "Ellinor!  Ellinor!  Where  are 
you?" 

"  I  must  go !  "  said  Jeff.  "  They'll  be  looking 
for  you.  No;  you  didn't  do  any  of  those  things. 
You  couldn't  do  any  of  those  things.  Good-by!  " 

"Ellinor!  Ellinor  Hoffman!!  Where  are 
you?  " 

Miss  Hoffman  whipped  off  her  mask.  From 
the  open  window  a  shaft  of  light  fell  on  her  face. 
It  was  flushed,  sparkling,  radiant.  "  Masks  off !  " 


THE  MASKERS  85 

she  said.  "  Stupid !  .  .  .  Oh,  you  great  goose ! 
Of  course  I  did!"  She  stepped  back  into  the 
shadow. 

No  one,  as  the  copybook  says  justly,  may  be 
always  wise.  Conversely,  the  most  unwise  of  us 
blunders  sometimes  upon  the  right  thing  to  do. 
With  a  glimmer  of  returning  intelligence  Mr. 
Bransford  laid  his  noseguard  on  the  window-sill. 

"  Sir!  "  said  Ellinor  then.  "  How  dare  you  ?  " 
.Then  she  turned  the  other  cheek.  "  Good-by!  " 
she  whispered,  and  fled  away  to  the  ballroom. 

Mr.  Bransford,  in  the  shadows,  scratched  his 
head  dubiously. 

"  Her  Christian  name  was  Ellinor,"  he  mut 
tered.  "  Ellinor !  H'm — Ellinor !  Very  appro 
priate  name.  .  .  .  Very!  .  ,..  .  And  I  don't 
know  yet  where  she  lives  I  " 

He  wandered  disconsolately  away  to  the  garden 
wall,  forgetting  the  discarded  noseguard. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  ISLE  OF  ARCADYi 

"Then  the  moon  shone  out  so  broad  and  good 

That  the  barn-fowl  crowed: 

And  the  brown  owl  called  to  his  mate  in  the  wood 
That  a  dead  man  lay  in  the  road!  " 

— WILL  WALLACE  HARVEY. 

ARCADIA'S  assets  were  the  railroad,  two 
large  modern  sawmills,  the  climate  and 
printer's  ink.  The  railroad  found  it  a  patch  of 
bare  ground,  six  miles  from  water;  put  in  suc 
cessively  a  whistling-post,  a  signboard,  a  depot, 
townsite  papers  and  a  water-main  from  the 
Alamo;  and,  when  the  townsite  papers  were  con 
firmed,  established  machine  shops  and  made  the 
new  town  the  division  headquarters  and  base  for 
northward  building. 

The  railroad  then  set  up  the  sawmills,  pri 
marily  to  get  out  ties  and  timbers  for  its  own 
lanky  growth,  and  built  a  spur  to  bring  the  forest 
down  from  Rainbow  to  the  mills.  The  word 
"  down  "  is  used  advisedly.  Arcadia  nestled  on 
the  plain  under  the  very  eavespouts  of  Rainbow 
Range.  The  branch,  following  with  slavish  fidel- 

86 


THE  ISLE  OF  ARCADY  87 

ity  the  lines  of  a  twisted  corkscrew,  took  twenty- 
seven  miles,  mostly  tunnel  and  trestlework,  to 
clamber  to  the  logging  camps,  with  a  minimum 
grade  that  was  purely  prohibitive  and  a  maximum 
that  I  dare  not  state;  but  there  was  a  rise  of  six 
thousand  feet  in  those  twenty-seven  miles.  You 
can  figure  the  average  for  yourself.  And  if  the 
engine  should  run  off  the  track  at  the  end  of  her 
climb  she  would  light  on  the  very  roundhouse 
where  she  took  breakfast,  and  spoil  the  shingles. 

Yes,  that  was  some  railroad.  There  was  a 
summer  hotel — Cloudland — on  the  summit,  largely 
occupied  by  slackwire  performers.  Others  walked 
up  or  rode  a  horse.  They  used  stem-winding  en 
gines,  with  eight  vertical  cylinders  on  the  right 
side  and  a  shaft  like  a  steamboat,  with  beveled 
cogwheel  transmission  on  the  axles.  And  they 
haven't  had  a  wreck  on  that  branch  to  date.  No 
matter  how  late  a  train  is,  when  an  engine  sees 
the  tail-lights  of  her  caboose  ahead  of  her  she 
stops  and  sends  out  flagmen. 

The  railroad,  under  the  pseudonym  of  the 
Arcadia  Development  Company,  also  laid  out 
streets  and  laid  in  a  network  of  pipe-lines,  and 
staked  out  lots  until  the  sawmill  protested  for  lack 
of  tie-lumber.  It  put  down  miles  of  cement  walks, 
fringed  them  with  cottonwood  saplings,  telephone 
poles  and  electric  lights.  It  built  a  hotel  and  a 
few  streets  of  party-colored  cottages — directoire, 
with  lingerie  tile  roofs,  organdy  facades  and 


88    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

peplum,  intersecting  panels  and  outside  chimneys 
at  the  gable  ends.  It  decreed  a  park,  with  nooks, 
lanes,  mazes,  lake,  swans,  ballground,  grand 
stand,  bandstand  and  the  band  appertaining  there 
unto — all  of  which  apparently  came  into  being 
over  night.  Then  it  employed  a  competent  staff 
of  word-artists  and  capitalized  the  climate. 

The  result  was  astonishing.  The  cottonwoods 
grew  apace  and  a  swift  town  grew  with  them — 
swift  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  It  took  good 
money  to  buy  good  lots  in  Arcadia.  People  with 
money  must  be  fed,  served  and  amused  by  people 
wanting  money.  In  three  years  the  trees  cast  a 
pleasant  shade  and  the  company  cast  a  balance, 
with  gratifying  results.  They  discounted  the  un 
earned  increment  for  a  generation  to  come. 

It  was  a  beneficent  scheme,  selling  ozone  and 
novelty,  sunshine  and  delight.  The  buyers  got 
far  more  than  the  worth  of  their  money,  the  com 
pany  got  their  money — and  every  one  was  happy. 
Health  and  good  spirits  are  a  bargain  at  any 
price.  There  were  sandstorms  and  hot  days;  but 
sand  promotes  digestion  and  digestion  promotes 
cheerfulness.  Heat  merely  enhanced  the  luxury 
of  shaded  hammocks.  As  an  adventurer  thawed 
out,  he  sent  for  seven  others  worse  than  himself. 
Arcadia  became  the  metropolis  of  the  county  and, 
by  special  election,  the  county-seat.  Courthouse, 
college  and  jail  followed  in  quick  succession. 

For  the  company,  Arcadia  life  was  one  grand, 


THE  ISLE  OF  ARCADY  89 

sweet  song,  with,  thus  far,  but  a  single  discord. 
As  has  been  said,  Arcadia  was  laid  out  on  the 
plain.  There  was  higher  ground  on  three  sides 
— Rainbow  Mountain  to  the  east,  the  deltas  of 
La  Luz  Creek  and  the  Alamo  to  the  north  and 
south.  New  Mexico  was  dry,  as  a  rule.  After 
the  second  exception,  when  enthusiastic  citizens 
went  about  on  stilts  to  forward  a  project  for 
changing  the  town's  name  to  Venice,  the  company 
acknowledged  its  error  handsomely.  When  dry 
land  prevailed  once  more  above  the  face  of  the 
waters,  it  built  a  mighty  moat  by  way  of  the 
amende  honorable — a  moat  with  its  one  embank 
ment  on  the  inner  side  of  the  five-mile  horseshoe 
about  the  town.  This,  with  its  attendant  bridges, 
gave  to  Arcadia  an  aspect  singularly  medieval. 
It  also  furnished  a  convenient  line  of  social  de 
marcation.  Chauffeurs,  college  professors,  law 
yers,  gamblers,  county  officers,  together  with  a  few 
tradesmen  and  railroad  officials,  abode  within. 
"  the  Isle  of  Arcady,"  on  more  or  less  even  terms 
with  the  Arcadians  proper;  millmen,  railroaders, 
lumberjacks,  and  the  underworld  generally,  dwelt 
without  the  pale. 

The  company  rubbed  its  lamp  again — and  be 
hold!  an  armory,  a  hospital  and  a  library!  It 
contributed  liberally  to  churches  and  campaign 
funds;  it  exercised  a  general  supervision  over 
morals  and  manners.  For  example,  in  the  deed 
to  every  lot  sold  was  an  ironclad,  fire-tested,  auto- 


90    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

matic  and  highly  constitutional  forfeiture  clause, 
to  the  effect  that  sale  or  storage  on  the  premises 
of  any  malt,  vinous  or  spirituous  liquors  should 
immediately  cause  the  title  to  revert  to  the  com 
pany.  The  company's  own  vicarious  saloon,  on 
Lot  Number  One,  was  a  sumptuous  and  mag-| 
nificent  affair.  It  was  known  as  The  Mint. 

All  this  while  we  have  been  trying  to  reach  the 
night  watchman. 

In  the  early  youth  of  Arcadia  there  came  to 
her  borders  a  warlock  Finn,  of  ruddy  countenance 
and  solid  build.  He  had  a  Finnish  name,  and 
they  called  him  Lars  Porsena. 

Lars  P.  had  been  a  seafaring  man.  While 
spending  a  year's  wage  in  San  Francisco,  he  had 
wandered  into  Arcadia  by  accident.  There,  being 
unable  to  find  the  sea,  he  became  a  lumberjack — 
with  a  custom,  when  in  spirits,  of  beating  the 
watchman  of  that  date  into  an  omelet. 

The  indulgence  of  this  penchant  gave  occasion 
for  much  adverse  criticism.  Fine  and  imprison 
ment  failed  to  deter  him  from  this  playful  habit. 
One  watchman  tried  to  dissuade  Lars  from  his 
foible  with  a  club,  and  his  successor  even  went 
so  far  as  to  shoot  him — to  shoot  Lars  P., 
of  course,  not  his  predecessor — the  successor's 
predecessor,  not  Lars  Porsena's — if  he  ever  had 
one,  which  he  hadn't.  (What  we  need  is  more 
pronouns.)'  He — the  successor  of  the  predecessor 


THE  ISLE  OF  ARCADYi  91 

— resigned  when  Lars  became  convalescent;  but 
Lars  was  no  whit  dismayed  by  this  contretemps — 
in  his  first  light-hearted  moment  he  resumed  his 
old  amusement  with  unabated  gayety. 

Thus  was  one  of  our  greatest  railroad  systems 
subjected  to  embarrassment  and  annoyance  by  the 
idiosyncrasies  of  an  ignorant  but  cheerful  sailor- 
man.  The  railroad  resolved  to  submit  no  longer 
to  such  caprice.  A  middleweight  of  renown  was 
imported,  who — when  he  was  able  to  be  about 
again — bitterly  reproached  the  president  and  de 
manded  a  bonus  on  the  ground  that  he  had 
knocked  Lars  down  several  times  before  he — 
Lars — got  angry;  and  also  because  of  a  disquisi 
tion  in  the  Finnish  tongue  which  Lars  Porsena 
had  emitted  during  the  procedure — which  ad 
dress,  the  prizefighter  stated,  had  unnerved  him 
and  so  led  to  his  undoing.  It  was  obviously,  he 
said,  of  a  nature  inconceivably  insulting;  the  mem 
ory  of  it  rankled  yet,  though  he  had  heard  only 
the  beginning  and  did  not  get  the —  But  let  that 
pass. 

[The  thing  became  a  scandal.  Watchman  suc 
ceeded  watchman  on  the  company  payroll  and  the 
hospital  list,  until  some  one  hit  upon  a  happy  and 
ingenious  way  to  avoid  this  indignity.  Lars  Por 
sena  was  appointed  watchman. 

This  statesmanlike  policy  bore  gratifying  re 
sults.  Lars  Porsena  straightway  abandoned  his 
absurd  and  indefensible  custom,  and  no  imitator 


92    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

arose.  Also,  Arcadia  within  the  moat — the  island 
— which  was  the  limit  of  his  jurisdiction,  became 
the  most  orderly  spot  in  New  Mexico. 

•  •••••• 

In  the  first  gray  of  dawn,  Uncle  Sam,  whistling 
down  Main  Street  on  his  way  home  from  the 
masquerade,  found  Lars  Porsena  lying  on  his  face 
in  a  pool  of  blood. 

The  belated  reveler  knelt  beside  him.  The 
watchman  was  shot,  but  still  breathed.  "  Ho  I 
Murder !  Help !  Murder !  "  shouted  Uncle  Sam. 
The  alarm  rolled  crashing  along  the  quiet  street. 
Heads  were  thrust  from  windows ;  startled  voices 
took  up  the  outcry;  other  home-goers  ran  from 
every  corner ;  hastily  arrayed  householders  poured 
themselves  from  street  doors. 

Lars  Porsena  was  in  disastrous  plight.  He 
breathed,  but  that  was  about  all.  He  was  shot 
through  the  body.  A  trail  of  blood  led  back  a 
few  doors  to  Lake's  Bank.  A  window  was  cut 
out;  the  blood  began  at  the  sill. 

Messengers  ran  to  telephone  the  doctor,  the 
sheriff,  Lake.  The  knot  of  men  grew  to  a  crowd. 
A  rumor  spread  that  there  had  been  an  unusual 
amount  of  currency  in  the  bank  over  night — a 
rumor  presently  confirmed  by  Bassett,  the  bare 
headed  and  white-faced  cashier.  It  was  near  pay 
day;  in  addition  to  the  customary  amount  to  cash 
checks  for  railroaders  and  millhands — itself  no 


THE  ISLE  OF  ARCADY  93 

mean  sum — and  the  money  for  regular  business, 
there  had  been  provision  for  contemplated  loans 
to  promoters  of  new  local  industries. 

The  doctor  came  running,  made  a  hasty  exam 
ination,  took  emergency  measures  to  stanch  the 
freshly  started  blood,  and  swore  whole-heartedly 
at  the  ambulance  and  the  crowding  Arcadians. 
He  administered  a  stimulant.  Lars  Porsena  flut 
tered  his  eyes  weakly. 

"  Stand  back,  you  idiots !  Bash  these  foolsr 
faces  in  for  'em,  some  one !  "  said  the  medical 
man.  He  bent  over  the  watchman.  "  Who  did 
it,  Lars?" 

Lars  made  a  vain  effort  to  speak.  The  doctor 
gave  him  another  sip  of  restorative  and  took  a 
pull  himself. 

"  Try  again,  old  man.  You're  badly  hurt  and 
you  may  not  get  another  chance.  Did  you  know 
him?" 

Lars  gathered  all  his  strength  to  a  broken 
speech : 

"  No.  .  ;.  .  Bank.  .  .  .  Found  window.  .  •„  . 
Midnight  .  ..  .  nearly.  .  .  .  Shot  me.  .  r.  . 
Didn't  see  him."  He  fell  back  on  Uncle  Sam's 
starry  vest. 

"  Ambulance  coming,"  said  Uncle  Sam.  "  Will 
he  live,  doc?  " 

Doc  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"  Poor  chance.  Lost  too  much  blood.  If  he 
had  been  found  in  time  he  might  have  pulled 


94    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

through.    Wonderful  vitality.    Ought  to  be  dead 
now,  by  the  books.     Still,  there's  a  chance." 

"  I  never  thought,"  said  Uncle  Sam  to  Cyrano 
de  Bergerac,  as  the  ambulance  bore  away  its  un 
conscious  burden,  "  that  I  would  ever  be  so  sorry 
at  anything  that  could  happen  to  Lars  Porsena — 
after  the  way  he  made  me  stop  singing  on  my  own 
birthday.  He  was  one  grand  old  fighting  ma 
chine!" 


CHAPTER  VII 
STATES-GENERAE 

"And  they  hae  killed  Sir  Charlie  Hay 
And  laid  the  wyte  on  Geordie." 

— Old  Ballad. 

THAT  the  master's  eye  is  worth  two  servants 
had  ever  been  Lake's  favorite  maxim.  He 
had  not  yet  gone  to  bed  when  the  message  reached 
him,  where  he  kept  his  masterly  eye  on  the  proper 
closing  up  of  the  ballroom.  He  came  through  the 
crowd  now,  shouldering  his  way  roughly,  still  in 
his  police  costume — helmet,  tunic  and  belt.  In  his 
wake  came  the  sheriff,  who  had  just  arrived, 
scorching  to  the  scene  on  his  trusty  wheel. 

On  the  bank  steps,  Lake  turned  to  face  the 
crowd.  His  strong  canine  jaw  was  set  to  stub- 
bora  lighting  lines;  the  helmet  did  not  wholly 
hide  the  black  frown  or  the  swollen  veins  at  his 
temple. 

"  Come  in,  Thompson,  and  help  the  sheriff  size 
the  thing  up — and  you,  Alec  " — he  stabbed  the  air 
at  his  choice  with  a  strong  blunt  finger — "  and 
Turnbull — you,  Clarke — and  you.  .  ™  ,.;  Bassett, 
you  keep  the  door.  Admit  no  one !  " 

95 


96    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

Lake  was  the  local  great  man.  Never  had 
he  appeared  to  such  advantage  to  his  admirers; 
never  had  his  ascendency  seemed  so  unquestioned 
and  so  justified.  As  he  stood  beside  the  sheriff 
in  the  growing  light,  the  man  was  the  incarnation 
of  power — the  power  of  wealth,  position,  prestige, 
success.  In  this  moment  of  yet  unplumbed  dis 
aster,  taken  by  surprise,  summoned  from  a  night 
of  crowded  pleasure,  he  held  his  mastery,  chose  his 
men  and  measures  with  unhesitant  decision — 
planned,  ordered,  kept  to  that  blunt  direct  speech 
of  his  that  wasted  no  word.  A  buzz  went  up 
from  the  unadmitted  as  the  door  swung  shut  be 
hind  him. 

Lake  had  chosen  well.  Arcadia  in  epitome  was 
within  those  pillaged  walls.  Thompson  was  presi 
dent  of  the  rival  bank.  Alec  was  division  super 
intendent.  Turnbull  was  the  mill-master.  Clarke 
was  editor  of  the  Arcadian  Day.  Clarke  had  been 
early  to  the  storm-center;  yet,  of  all  the  investi 
gators,  Clarke  alone  was  not  more  or  less  di 
sheveled.  He  was  faultlessly  appareled — even  to 
the  long  Prince  Albert  and  black  string  tie — in 
which,  indeed,  report  said,  he  slept. 

So  much  for  capital,  industry  and  the  fourth 
estate.  The  last  of  the  probers,  whom  Lake  had 
drafted  merely  by  the  slighting  personal  pronoun 
"  you,"  was  nevertheless  identifiable  in  private  life 
by  the  name  of  Billy  White — being,  indeed,  none 
other  than  our  old  friend  the  devil.  His  indige- 


STATES-GENERAL  97 

nous  mustache  still  retained  a  Mephistophelian 
twist;  he  was  becomingly  arrayed  in  slippers,  pa 
jamas  and  a  pink  bathrobe,  girdled  at  the  waist 
with  a  most  unhermitlike  cord,  having  gone  early 
and  surly  to  bed.  In  this  improvised  committee 
he  fitly  represented  Society:  while  the  sheriff  repre 
sented  society  at  large  and,  ex  officio,  that  incau 
tious  portion  under  duress.  Yetoneelementwasun- 
represented;  for  Lake  made  a  mistake  which  other 
great  men  have  made — of  failing  to  reckon  with 
the  masterless  men,  who  dwell  without  the  wall. 

Lake  led  the  way. 

"Will  the  watchman  die,  Alec,  d'you  think?" 
whispered  Billy,  as  they  filed  through  the  grilled 
door  to  the  counting  room. 

"  Don't  know.  Hope  not.  Game  old  rooster. 
Good  watchman,  too,"  said  Turnbull,  the  mill- 
superintendent. 

Lake  turned  on  the  lights.  The  wall-safe  was 
blown  open;  fragments  of  the  door  were  scattered 
among  the  overturned  chairs. 

In  an  open  recess  in  the  vault  there  was  a  dull 
yellow  mass;  the  explosion  had  spilled  the  front 
rows  of  coin  to  a  golden  heap.  Behind,  some 
golden  rouleaus  were  intact:  others  tottered  pre 
cariously,  as  you  have  perhaps  seen  beautiful  tall 
stacks  of  colored  counters  do.  Gold  pieces  were 
strewn  along  the  floor. 

"  Thank  God,  they  didn't  get  all  the  gold  any 
how  I  "  said  Lake,  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  "  Then, 


98    BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

of  course,  they  didn't  touch  the  silver;  but  there 
was  a  lot  of  greenbacks — over  twenty-five  thou 
sand,  I  think.  Bassett  will  know.  And  I  don't 
know  how  much  gold  is  gone.  Look  round  and 
see  if  they  left  anything  incriminating,  sheriff,  any 
thing  that  we  can  trace  them  by." 

"  He  heard  poor  old  Lars  coming,"  said  the 
sheriff.  "  Then,  after  he  shot  him,  he  hadn't  the 
nerve  to  come  back  for  the  gold.  This  strikes 
me  as  being  a  bungler's  job.  Must  have  used  an 
awful  lot  of  dynamite  to  tear  that  door  up  like 
that!  Funny  no  one  heard  the  explosion.  Can't 
be  much  of  your  gold  gone,  Lake.  That  com 
partment  is  pretty  nearly  as  full  as  it  will  hold." 

"  Or  heard  him  shoot  our  watchman,"  sug 
gested  Thompson.  "  Still,  I  don't  know.  There's 
blasting  going  on  in  the  hills  all  the  time  and  al 
most  every  one  was  at  the  masquerade  or  else 
asleep.  How  many  times  did  they  shoot  old  Lars 
— does  anybody  know?  Is  there  any  idea  what 
time  it  was  done?  " 

"  He  was  shot  once — right  here,"  said  Alec, 
indicating  the  spot  on  the  flowered  silk  that  had 
been  part  of  his  mandarin's  dress.  "  Gun  was 
held  so  close  it  burnt  his  shirt.  Awful  hole. 
Don't  believe  the  old  chap'll  make  it.  He  crawled 
along  toward  the  telephone  station  till  he  dropped. 
Say !  Central  must  have  heard  that  shot !  It's  only 
two  blocks  away.  She  ought  to  be  able  to  tell 
what  time  it  was." 


STATES-GENERAL  99 

"  Lars  said  it  was  just  before  midnight,"  said 
Clarke. 

"  Oh  1— did  he  speak?  "  asked  Lake.  "  How 
many  robbers  were  there  ?  Did-  he  know  any  of 
them?" 

"  He  didn't  see  anybody — shot  just  as  he 
reached  the  window.  Hope  some  one  hangs  for 
this  I  "  said  Clarke.  "  Lake,  I  wish  you'd  have 
this  money  picked  up — I'm  not  used  to  walking 
on  gold — or  else  have  me  watched." 

Lake  shook  his  head,  angry  at  the  untimely 
pleasantry.  It  was  a  pleasantry  in  effect  only,  put 
forward  to  hide  uneditorial  agitation  and  distress 
for  Lars  Porsena.  Lake's  undershot  jaw  thrust 
forward;  he  fingered  the  blot  of  whisker  at  his 
ear.  It  was  a  time  for  action,  not  for  talk.  He 
began  his  campaign. 

"  Look  here,  sheriff !  You  ought  to  wire  up 
and  down  the  line  to  keep  a  lookout.  Hold  all 
suspicious  characters.  Then  get  a  posse  to  ride 
for  some  sign  round  the  town.  If  we  only  had 
something  to  go  on — some  clue !  Later  we'll  look 
through  this  town  with  a  finetooth  comb.  Most 
likely  they — or  he,  if  there  was  only  one — won't 
risk  staying  here.  First  of  all,  I've  got  to  tele 
graph  to  El  Paso  for  money  to  stave  off  a  run 
on  the  bank.  You'll  help  me,  Thompson?  Of 
course  my  burglar  insurance  will  make  good  my 
loss — or  most  of  it;  but  that'll  take  time.  We 
mustnTt  risk  a  run.  People  lose  their  heads  so. 


ioo  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

I'll  give  you  a  statement  for  the  Day,  Clarke,  as 
soon  as  I  find  out  where  Mr.  Thompson  stands." 

"  I  will  back  you  up,  sir.  With  the  bulk  of 
depositors'  money  loaned  out,  no  bank,  however 
solvent,  can  withstand  a  continued  run  without 
backing.  I  shall  be  glad  to  tide  you  over  if  only 
for  my  own  protection.  A  panic  is  con 
tagious " 

"  Thanks,"  said  Lake  shortly,  interrupting  this 
stately  financial  discourse.  "  Then  we  shall  do 
nicely.  .  .  .  Let's  see — to-morrow's  payday. 
You  fellows  " — he  turned  briskly  to  the  two  su 
perintendents — u  can't  you  hold  up  your  payday, 
say,  until  Saturday?  Stand  your  men  off.  The 
company  stands  good  for  their  money.  They  can 
wait  a  while." 

"  No  need  to  do  that,"  said  Alec.  "  I'll  have 
the  railroad  checks  drawn  on  St.  Louis.  The 
storekeepers'll  cash  'em.  If  necessary  I'll  wire 
for  authority  to  let  Turnbull  pay  off  the  millhands 
with  railroad  checks.  It's  just  taking  money  from 
one  pocket  to  put  it  in  the  other,  anyhow." 

"Then  that's  all  right!  Now  for  the  rob 
bers  !  "  The  banker's  face  betrayed  impatience. 
"  My  first  duty  was  to  protect  my  clients ;  but  now 
we'll  waste  no  more  time.  You  gentlemen  make 
a  close  search  for  any  possible  scrap  of  evidence 
while  the  sheriff  and  I  write  our  telegrams.  I 
must  wire  the  burglar  insurance  company,  too." 
He  plunged  a  pen  into  an  inkwell  and  fell  to  work. 


STATES-GENERAL  101 

Acting  upon  this  hint,  the  sheriff  took  a  desk. 
"  Wish  Phillips  was  here — my  deputy,"  he  sighed. 
"  I've  sent  for  him.  He's  got  a  better  head  than 
I  have  for  noticing  clues  and  things."  This  was 
eminently  correct  as  well  as  modest.  The  sheriff 
was  a  Simon-pure  Arcadian,  the  company's  nom 
inee  ;  his  deputy  was  a  concession  to  the  disgruntled 
Hinterland,  where  the  unobservant  rarely  reach 
maturity. 

"Oh,  Alec!"  said  Lake  over  his  shoulder, 
"  you  sit  down,  too,  and  wire  all  your  conductors 
about  their  passengers  last  night.  Yes,  and  the 
freight  crews,  too.  We'll  rush  those  through  first. 
And  can't  you  scare  up  another  operator?  "  His 
pen  scratched  steadily  over  the  paper.  "  More 
apt  to  be  some  of  our  local  outlaws,  though.  In 
that  case  it  will  be  easier  to  find  their  trail. 
They'll  probably  be  on  horseback." 

"  You  were  an — old-timer  yourself,  were  you 
not?  "  asked  Billy  amiably.  "  If  the  robbers  are 
frontiersmen  they  may  be  easier  to  get  track  of, 
as  you  suggest;  but  won't  they  be  harder  to  get?  " 
Billy  spoke  languidly.  The  others  were  search 
ing  assiduously  for  "  clues "  in  the  most  ap 
proved  manner,  but  Billy  sprawled  easily  in  a 
chair. 

"  We'll  get  'em  if  we  can  find  out  who  they 
were,"  snapped  Lake,  setting  his  strong  jaw.  He 
did  not  particularly  like  Billy — especially  since 
their  late  trip  to  Rainbow.  "  There  never  was 


102  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

a  man  yet  so  good  but  there  was  one  just  a  little 
better." 

"  By  a  good  man,  in  this  connection,  you  mean 
a  bad  man,  I  presume?  "  said  Billy  in  a  meditative 
drawl.  "  Were  you  a  good  man  before  you  be 
came  a  banker?  " 

"Look  here!  What's  this?"  The  interrup 
tion  came  from  Clarke.  He  pounced  down  be 
tween  two  fragments  of  the  safe  door  and  brought 
up  an  object  which  he  held  to  the  light. 

At  the  startled  tones,  Lake  spun  round  in  his 
swivel-chair.  He  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Really,  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  anything  like 
this  thing  before,"  he  said.  "  Any  of  you  know 
what  it  is?" 

"  It's  a  noseguard,"  said  Billy.  Billy  was  a 
college  man  and  had  worn  a  nosepiece  himself. 
He  frowned  unconsciously,  remembering  Lis  suc 
cessful  rival  of  the  masquerade. 

"  A  noseguard?    What  for?  " 

11  You  wear  it  to  protect  your  nose  and  teeth 
when  playing  football,"  explained  Billy.  "  Keeps 
you  from  swearing,  too.  You  hold  this  piece  be 
tween  your  teeth;  the  other  part  goes  over  your 
nose,  up  between  your  eyes  and  fastens  with  this 
band  around  your  forehead." 

"Why!  Why!"  gasped  Clarke,  "there  was 
5a  man  at  the  masquerade  togged  out  as  a  football 
player ! " 


STATES-GENERAE  103 

"  I  saw  him,"  said  Alec.  "  And  he  wore  one 
of  these  things.  I  saw  him  talking  to  Topsy." 

"One  of  my  guests?"  demanded  Lake  scoff- 
ingly.  "  Oh,  nonsense !  Some  young  fellow  has 
been  in  here  yesterday,  talking  to  the  clerks,  and 
dropped  it.  Who  went  as  a  football  player, 
White?  You  know  all  these  college  boys.  Know 
anything  about  this  one?" 

"  Not  a  thing."  There  Billy  lied— a  prompt 
and  loyal  gentleman — reasoning  that  Buttinski, 
as  he  mentally  styled  the  interloper  who  had  mis 
appropriated  the  Quaker  lady,  would  have  cared 
nothing  at  that  time  for  a  paltry  thirty  thousand. 
Thus  was  he  guilty  of  a  practice  against  which 
we  are  all  vainly  warned — of  judging  others  by 
ourselves.  Billy  remembered  very  distinctly  that 
Miss  Ellinor  had  not  reappeared  until  the  mid 
night  unmasking,  and  he  therefore  acquitted  her 
companion  of  this  particular  crime,  entirely  with 
out  prejudice  to  Buttinski's  felonious  instincts  in 
general.  For  the  watchman  had  been  shot  before 
midnight.  Billy  made  a  tentative  mental  decision 
that  this  famous  noseguard  had  been  brought  to 
the  bank  later  and  left  there  purposely;  and  re 
solved  to  keep  his  eye  open. 

"  Oh,  well,  it's  no  great  difference  anyhow," 
said  Lake.  "  Whoever  it  was  dropped  it  here 
yesterday,  I  guess,  and  got  another  one  for  the 
masquerade." 

"  Hold  on  there  1  "  said  Clarke,  holding  the 


104  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

spotlight  tenaciously.  "  That  don't  go !  This 
thing  was  on  top  of  one  of  those  pieces  of  the 
safe!" 

For  the  first  time  Lake  was  startled  from  his 
iron  composure. 

"  Are  you  sure?  "  he  demanded,  jumping  up. 

"  Sure !  It  was  right  here  against  the  sloping 
side  of  this  piece — so." 

"  That  puts  a  different  light  on  the  case,  gentle 
men,"  said  Lake.  "  Luck  is  with  us;  and " 

"  And,  while  I  think  of  it,"  said  Clarke,  making 
the  most  of  his  unexpected  opportunity,  "  I  made 
notes  of  all  the  costumes  and  their  wearers  after 
the  masks  were  off — for  the  paper,  you  know — 
and  I  saw  no  football  player  there.  I  remember 
that  distinctly." 

"  I  only  saw  him  the  one  time,"  confirmed 
Alec,  "  and  I  stayed  almost  to  the  break-up. 
Whoever  it  was,  he  left  early." 

"  But  what  possible  motive  could  the  robber 
have  for  going  to  the  dance  at  all?  "  queried  Lake 
in  perplexity. 

"  Maybe  he  made  his  appearance  there  in  a 
football  suit  purposely,  so  as  to  leave  us  some 
one  to  hunt  for,  and  then  committed  the  robbery 
and  went  back  in  another  costume,"  suggested 
Clarke,  pleased  and  not  a  little  surprised  at  his 
own  ingenuity.  "  In  that  case,  he  would  have  left 
this  rubber  thing  here  of  design." 

"H'm!"     Lake  was  plainly  struck  with  this 


STATES-GENERAL  105 

theory.  "  And  that's  not  such  a  bad  idea,  either ! 
We'll  look  into  this  football  matter  after  break 
fast.  You'll  go  to  the  hotel  with  me,  gentlemen? 
Our  womankind  are  all  asleep  after  the  ball.  [The 
sheriff  will  send  some  one  to  guard  the  bank. 
Meantime  I'll  call  the  cashier  in  and  find  out  ex 
actly  how  much  money  we're  short.  Send  Bassett 
in,  will  you,  Billy?  You  stay  at  the  <ioor  and 
keep  that  mob  out." 


CHAPTER  VIII 
ARCADES  AMBO 

"  What  means  this,  my  lord  ?  " 

"Marry,  this  is  miching  mallecho;  it  means  mischief." 

— Hamlet. 

"We  are  here  to  do  what  service  we  may,  for  honor  and  not 
for  hire." — ROBERT  Louis  STEVENSON. 

WITH  Billy  went  the  sheriff  and  Alec,  the 
latter  with  a  sheaf  of  telegrams. 

"  Now  .  .  .  how  did  Buttinski's  noseguard 
get  into  this  bank?  That's  what  I'd  like  to 
know,"  said  Billy  to  the  doorknob,  when  the  other 
committeemen  had  gone  their  ways.  "  I  didn't 
bring  it.  I  don't  believe  Buttinski  did.  .  .  .: 
And  Policeman  Lake  certainly  saw  us  quarreling. 
He  noticed  the  football  player,  right  enough, — 
and  he  pretends  he  didn't.  Why — why — why 
does  Policeman  Lake  pretend  he  didn't  see  that 
football  player?  Echo  answers — why?  .  ,.  .  Den 
mark's  all  putrefied !  " 

The  low  sun  cleared  the  housetops.  The  level 
rays  fell  along  the  window-sill;  and  Billy,  staring 
fascinated  at  the  single  blotch  of  dried  blood  on 
the  inner  sill,  saw  something  glitter  and  sparkle 

1 06 


ARCADES  AMBO  107 

there  beside  it.  He  went  closer.  It  was  a  dust  of 
finely  powdered  glass.  Billy  whistled. 

A  light  foot  ran  up  the  steps.  There  was  a 
rap  at  the  door. 

"  No  entrance  except  on  business.  No  business 
transacted  here !  "  quoted  Billy,  startled  from  a 
deep  study.  A  head  appeared  at  the  window. 
"Oh,  it's  you,  Jimmy?  That's  different.  Come 
in!" 

It  was  Jimmy  Phillips,  the  chief  deputy.  Billy 
knew  him  and  liked  him.  He  unbarred  the 
door. 

"Well,  anything  turned  up  yet?"  demanded 
Jimmy.  "  I  stopped  in  to  see  Lars.  Him  and  me 
was  old  side  partners." 

"  How's  he  making  it,  Jimmy?  " 

"  Oh,  doc  said  he  had  one  chance  in  ten  thou 
sand;  so  he's  all  right,  I  guess,"  responded  that 
brisk  optimist.  "  ,They  got  any  theory  about  the 
robber?" 

**  They  have  that.  A  perfectly  sound  theory, 
too — only  it  isn't  true,"  said  Billy  in  a  low  and 
guarded  tone.  **  They'll  tell  you.  I  haven't  got 
time.  See  here — if  I  give  you  the  straight  tip  will 
you  work  it  up  and  keep  your  head  closed  until 
you  see  which  way  the  cat  jumps?  Can  you  keep 
it  to  yourself?  " 

"  Mum  as  a  sack  of  clams !  "  said  Jimmy. 

"  Look  at  this  a  minute !  "  Billy  pointed  to 
the  tiny  particles  of  glass  on  the  inner  sill.  "  Got 


io8  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

that?  Then  I'll  dust  it  off.  This  is  a  case  for 
your  gummiest  shoes.  Now  look  at  this !  "  He 
indicated  the  opening  where  the  patch  of  glass 
had  been  cut  from  the  big  pane.  Jimmy  rubbed 
his  finger  very  cautiously  along  the  raw  edge  of 
the  glass. 

"  Cut  out  from  the  inside — then  carried  out 
there  ?  A  frame-up  ?  " 

"  Exactly.  But  I  don't  want  anybody  else  to 
size  it  up  for  a  frame-up — not  now." 

"  But,"  said  Jimmy  good-naturedly,  "  I'd  'a* 
seen  all  that  myself  after  a  little  if  you  hadn't  'a' 
showed  me." 

"  Yes,"  said  Billy  dryly;  "  and  then  told  some 
body!  That's  why  I  brushed  the  glass-dust  off. 
I've  got  inside  information — some  that  I'm  going 
to  share  with  you  and  some  that  I  am  not  going 
to  tell  even  you!  " 

"Trot  it  out!" 

"  Lake  had  the  key  of  this  front  door  in  the 
policeman's  uniform  that  he  wore  to  the  dance. 
Isn't  that  queer?  If  I  were  you  I'd  very  quietly 
find  out  whether  he  went  home  to  get  that  key 
after  he  got  word  that  the  bank  was  robbed.  He 
was  still  in  the  ballroom  when  he  got  the  mes 
sage." 

"  You  think  it's  a  put-up  job?    Why?  " 

"  There  is  something  not  just  right  about  the 
man  Lake.  His  mind  is  too  ballbearing  alto 
gether.  He  herds  those  chumps  in  there  round 


ARCADES  AMBO  109 

like  so  many  sheep.  He  used  'em  to  make  dis 
coveries  with  and  then  showed  'em  how  to  force 
'em  on  him.  Oh,  they  made  a  heap  of  progress ! 
They've  got  evidence  enough  up  in  there  to  hang 
John  the  Baptist,  with  Lake  all  the  time  setting 
back  in  the  breeching  like  a  balky  horse.  It's 
Lake's  bank,  and  the  bank's  got  burglar  insur 
ance.  Got  that?  If  he  gets  the  money  and  the 
insurance,  too — see?  And  I  happen  to  know  he 
has  been  bucking  the  market.  I  dropped  a  roll 
with  him  myself.  Then  there's  r-r-revenge! — as 
they  say  on  the  stage — and  something  else  beside. 
Has  Lake  any  bitter  enemies?  " 

"Oodles  of 'em!" 

"  But  one  worse  than  the  others — one  he  hates 
most?  " 

Jimmy  thought  for  a  while.    Then  he  nodded. 

"  Jeff  Bransford,  I  reckon." 

"Is  he  in  town?" 

"  Not  that  I  know  of." 

"  Well,  I  never  heard  of  your  Mr.  Bransford; 
but  he's  in  town  all  right,  all  right!  You'll  see! 
Lake's  got  a  case  cooked  up  that'll  hang  some 
one  higher  than  Haman;  and  I'll  bet  the  first  six 
years  of  my  life  against  a  Doctor  Cook  lecture 
ticket  that  the  first  letter  of  some  one's  name  is 
Jeff  Bransford." 

"  Maybe  Jeff  can  prove  he  was  somewhere 
else?  "  suggested  Jimmy. 

Billy  evaded  the  issue. 


no  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  this  Bransford?  Any 
good?  Besides  being  an  enemy  of  Lake's,  I 
mean?  " 

"  Mr.  Bransford  is  one  whom  we  all  delight 
to  humor,"  announced  the  deputy,  after  some  re 
flection. 

"  Friend  of  yours?  " 

Jimmy  reflected  again. 

"  We-11 — yes  I  "  he  said.  "  He  limps  a  little  in 
cold  weather,  and  I  got  a  little  small  ditch  plowed 
in  my  skull — but  our  horses  was  both  young  and 
wild,  and  the  boys  rode  in  between  us  before  there 
was  any  harm  done.  I  pulled  him  out  of  the 
Pecos  since  that,  too,  and  poured  some  several 
barrels  of  water  out  o'  him.  Yes,  we're  good 
friends,  I  reckon." 

"  He'll  shoot  back  on  proper  occasion,  then? 
A  good  sport?  Stand  the  gaff?  " 

"  On  proper  occasion,"  rejoined  Jimmy,  "  the 
other  man  will  shoot  back — if  he's  lucky.  Yes, 
sir,  Jeff's  certainly  one  dead  game  sport  at  any 
turn  in  the  road." 

"  Considering  the  source  and  spirit  of  your  in 
formation,  you  sadden  me,"  said  Billy.  "  The 
better  man  he  is,  the  better  chance  to  hang.  Has 
he  got  any  close  friends  here?  " 

"  He  seldom  ever  comes  here,"  said  Jimmy. 
"  All  his  friends  is  on  Rainbow,  specially  South 
Rainbow;  but  his  particular  side  partners  is  all 
away  just  now;  leastways,  all  but  one." 


ARCADES  AMBO  in 

"  Can't  you  write  to  that  one?  " 

,The  deputy  grinned  hugely. 

"  And  tell  him  to  come  break  Jeff  out  o'  jail?  " 
said  he.  "  That  don't  seem  hardly  right,  con- 
siderin'.  You  write  to  him — Johnny  Dines, 
Morningside.  You  might  wire  up  to  Cloud- 
land  and  have  it  forwarded  from  there.  I'll 
pay." 

Billy  made  a  note  of  it. 

"  They'll  be  out  here  in  a  jiffy  now,"  he  said. 
"  Now,  Jimmy,  you  listen  to  all  they  tell  you ; 
follow  it  up;  make  no  comments;  don't  see  any 
thing  and  don't  miss  anything.  Let  Lake  think 
he's  having  it  all  his  own  way  and  he'll  make  some 
kind  of  a  break  that  will  give  him  away.  We 
haven't  got  a  thing  against  him  yet  except  the  right 
guess.  And  you  be  careful  to  catch  your  friend 
without  a  fight.  When  you  get  him  I  want  you 
to  give  him  a  message  from  me;  but  don't  men 
tion  any  name.  Tell  him  to  keep  a  stiff  upper 
lip — that  the  devil  takes  care  of  his  own.  Say 
the  devil  told  you  himself — in  person.  I  don't 
want  to  show  my  hand.  I'm  on  the  other  side — 
see  ?  That  way  I  can  be  in  Lake's  counsels — force 
myself  in,  if  necessary,  after  this  morning." 

"  You  think  that  if  you  give  Lake  rope 
enough " 

"  Exactly.  Here  they  come — I  hear  their 
chairs." 

"  Blonde  or  brunette?  "  said  Jimmy  casually. 


H2  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"Eh?    What's  that?" 

"  The  something  else  that  you  wouldn't  tell  me 
about,"  Jimmy  explained.  "  Is  she  blonde  or 
brunette?  " 

"Oh,  go  to  hell!"  said  Billy. 


CHAPTER  LX 
JAKEN 

"Lord  Huntley  then  he  did  speak  out— 

O,  fair  mot  fa'  his  body! — 
'I  here  will  fight  doublet  alane 
Or  ony  thing  ails  Geordie! 

'Whom  has  he  robbed?    What  has  he  stole? 

Or  has  he  killed  ony? 
Or  what's  the  crime  that  he  has  done 

His  foes  they  are  so  mony  ? ' " 

— Old  Ballad. 

HUE  and  cry,  hubbub  and  mystery,  swept  the 
Isle  of  Arcady  that  morning,  but  the  most 
painstaking  search  and  query  proved  fruitless.  It 
developed  beyond  doubt  that  the  football  man 
had  not  been  seen  since  his  one  brief  appearance 
on  the  ballroom  floor.  Search  was  transferred  to 
the  mainland,  where,  as  it  neared  noon,  Lake's 
perseverance  and  thoroughness  were  rewarded. 
In  Chihuahua  suburb,  beyond  the  north  wall,  Lake 
noted  a  sweat-marked,  red-roan  horse  in  the  yard 
of  Rosalio  Marquez,  better  known,  by  reason  of 
his  profession,  as  Monte. 

Straightway  the  banker  reported  this  possible 
clue  to  the  sheriff  and  to  Billy,  who  was  as  tire- 

«3 


ii4  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

less  and  determined  in  the  chase  as  Lake  himself. 
The  other  masqueraders  had  mostly  abandoned 
the  chase.  He  found  them  on  the  bridge  of  the 
La  Luz  sallyport. 

"  It  may  be  worth  looking  into,"  Lake  advised 
the  sheriff.  "  Better  send  some  one  to  reconnoiter 
— some  one  not  known  to  be  connected  with  your 
office.  You  go,  Billy.  If  you  find  anything  sus 
picious  the  sheriff  can  'phone  to  the  hospital  if  he 
needs  me.  I'm  going  over  to  see  how  the  old 
watchman  is — ought  to  have  gone  before.  If  he 
gets  well  I  must  do  something  handsome  for  him." 

Billy  fell  in  with  this  request.  He  had  a  well- 
founded  confidence  in  Lake's  luck  and  attached 
much  more  significance  to  the  trifling  matter  of 
the  red-roan  horse  than  did  the  original  discoverer 
— especially  since  the  discoverer  had  bethought 
himself  to  go  to  the  hospital  on  an  errand  of 
mercy.  Billy  now  confidently  expected  early  de 
velopments.  And  he  preferred  personally  to  con 
duct  tke  arrest,  so  that  he  might  interfere,  if  neces 
sary,  to  prevent  any  wasting  of  good  cartridges. 
He  did  not  expect  much  trouble,  however,  pro 
viding  the  afair  was  conducted  tactfully;  reason 
ing  that  a  dead  game  sport  with  a  clean  con 
science  and  a  light  heart  would  not  seriously  ob 
ject  to  a  small  arrest.  Poor  Billy's  own  heart  was 
none  of  the  lightest  as  he  went  on  this  loyal  service 
to  his  presumably  favored  rival. 

Bicycle-back,  he  accompanied  the  sheriff  beyond 


TAKEN  115 

the  outworks  to  the  Mexican  quarter.  Near  the 
place  indicated  by  the  banker  Billy  left  his  wheel 
and  strolled  casually  round  the  block.  He  saw 
the  red-roan  steed  and  noted  the  Double  Rain 
bow  branded  on  his  thigh. 

Monte  was  leaning  in  the  adobe  doorway,  roll 
ing  a  cigarette.  Billy  knew  him,  in  a  business 
way. 

"  Hello,  Monte !  Good  horse  you've  got 
there." 

"  Yais — tha's  nice  hor-rse,"  said  Monte. 

"Want  to  sell  him?" 

"  Thees  ees  not  my  hor-rse,"  explained  Monte. 
"  He  ees  of  a  frien'." 

"  I  like  his  looks,"  said  Billy.  "  Is  your  friend 
here?  Or,  if  he's  downtown,  what's  his  name? 
I'd  like  to  buy  that  horse." 

"  He  ees  weetheen,  but  he  ees  not  apparent. 
He  ees  dormiendo — ah — yais — esleepin'.  He  was 
las'  night  to  the  baile  mascarada." 

Billy  nodded.  "  Yes ;  I  was  there  myself."  He 
decided  to  take  a  risk:  assuming  that  his  calcula 
tions  were  correct,  x  must  equal  Bransford.  So 
he  said  carelessly:  "  Let's  see,  Bransford  went  as 
a  sailor,  didn't  he?  Un  mariner  o?  " 

"  Oh,  no;  he  was  atir-re'  lak  one — que  cosa? — 
what  you  call  thees  theeng? — un  balon  para  jugar 
con  los  pies?  Ah!  si,  si! — one  feetball!  Myself 
I  come  soon  back.  I  have  no  beesness.  The  bes' 
people  ees  all  for  the  dance,"  said  Monte,  with 


n6  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

hand  turned  up  and  shrugging  shoulder.  "  So, 
media  noche — twelve  of  the  clock,  I  am  here  back. 
I  fin'  here  the  hor-rse  of  my  frien',  and  one  carta 
— letter — that  I  am  not  to  lock  the  door;  porque 
he  may  come  to  esleep.  So  I  am  mek  to  r-repose 
myself.  Later  I  am  ar-rouse  when  my  frien'  am 
to  r-retir-re  heemself.  Ah,  que  hombre!  I  am 
yet  to  esmile  to  see  heem  in  thees  sc  r-redeeculous 
vestidosf  He  ees  ver'  gay.  Ah!  que  Jeff!  Een 
all  ways  thees  ees  a  man  ver'  sufficiente,  cour- 
rageous,  es-trong,  f ormidabble !  Yet  he  ees  keep 
the  disposition,  the  hear-rt,  of  a  seemple  leetle 
chil' — un  muchachof" 

"  I'll  come  again,"  said  Billy,  and  passed  on. 
He  had  found  out  what  he  had  come  for.  The 
absence  of  concealment  dispelled  any  lingering 
doubt  of  Jeff  Buttinski.  Yet  he  could  establish 
no  alibi  by  Monte. 

Perhaps  Billy  White  may  require  here  a  little 
explanation.  All  things  considered,  Billy  thought 
Jeff  would  be  better  off  in  jail,  with  a  friend  in 
the  opposite  camp  working  for  his  interest,  than 
getting  himself  foolishly  killed  by  a  hasty  posse. 
If  we  are  cynical,  we  may  say  that,  being  young, 
Billy  was  not  averse  to  the  role  of  dens  ex 
machina;  perhaps  a  thought  of  friendly  gratitude 
was  not  lacking.  Then,  too,  adventure  for  ad 
venture's  sake  is  motive  enough — in  youth.  Or, 
as  a  final  self-revelation,  we  may  hint  that  if  Jeff 
was  a  rival,  so  too  was  Lake — and  one  more 


TAKEN  117 

eligible.  Let  us  not  be  cynical,  however,  or  cow 
ardly.  Let  us  say  at  once  shamelessly  what  we 
very  well  know — that  youth  is  the  season  for  clean 
honor  and  high  emprise;  that  boy's  love  is  best 
and  truest  of  all;  that  poor,  honest  Billy,  in  his 
own  dogged  and  fantastic  way,  but  sought  to  give 
true  service  where  he — loved.  There,  we  have 
said  it;  and  we  are  shamed.  How  old  are  you, 
sir?  Forty?  Fifty?  Most  actions  are  the  result 
of  mixed  motives,  you  say?  Well,  that  is  a  nota 
ble  concession — at  your  age.  Let  it  go  at  that. 
Billy,  then,  acted  from  mixed  motives. 

When  Billy  brought  back  his  motives — and 
the  sheriff — Monte  still  held  his  negligent  atti 
tude  in  the  doorway.  He  waved  a  graceful 
salute. 

"  I  want  to  see  Bransford,"  said  the  sheriff. 

"  He  ees  esleepin',"  said  Monte. 

"Well,  I  want  to  see  him  anyway!"  The 
sheriff  laid  a  brusk  hand  on  the  gatelatch. 

Monte  waved  his  cigarette  airily,  flicked  the 
ash  from  the  end  with  a  slender  finger,  and  once 
more  demonstrated  that  the  hand  is  quicker  than 
the  eye.  The  portentously  steady  gun  in  the  hand 
was  the  first  intimation  to  the  eye  that  the  hand 
had  moved  at  all.  It  was  a  very  large  gun  as  to 
caliber,  the  sheriff  noted.  As  it  was  pointed  di 
rectly  at  his  nose  he  was  favorably  situated  to 
observe — looking  along  the  barrel — that  the 
hammer  stood  at  full  cock. 


n8  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"  Per-rhaps  you  have  some  papers  for  hecm?  " 
suggested  Monte,  with  gentle  and  delicate  defer 
ence.  He  still  leaned  against  the  doorjamb. 
"  But  eef  not  eet  ees  bes'  that  you  do  not  enter 
thees  my  leetle  house  to  distur-rb  my  gues'.  That 
would  be  to  commeet  a  r-rudeness — no  ?  " 

The  sheriff  was  a  sufficiently  brave  man,  if  not 
precisely  a  brilliant  one.  Yet  he  showed  now  in 
telligence  of  the  highest  order.  He  dropped  the 
latch. 

"You  Billy,  stop  your  laughing!  Do  you 
know,  Mr.  Monte,  I  think  you  are  quite  right?  " 
he  observed,  with  a  smiling  politeness  equal  to 
Monte's  own.  "  That  would  be  rude,  certainly. 
My  mistake.  An  Englishman's  house  is  his  castle 
— that  sort  of  thing?  If  you  will  excuse  me  now 
we  will  go  and  get  the  papers,  as  you  so  kindly 
pointed  out." 

They  went  away,  the  sheriff,  Billy  and  motives 
— Billy  still  laughing  immoderately. 

Monte  went  inside  and  stirred  up  his  guest 
with  a  prodding  boot-toe. 

"  Meester  Jeff,"  he  demanded,  "  what  you  been 
a-doin'  now?  " 

Jeff  sat  up,  rumpled  his  hair,  and  rubbed  his 
eyes. 

"  Sleepin',"  he  said. 

"  An'  before?  Porque,  the  sheriff  he  has  been. 
To  mek  an  arres'  of  you,  I  t'eenk." 

"Me?"  said  Jeff,  rubbing  his  chin  thought- 


TAKEN  119 

fully.  "  I  haven't  done  anything  that  I  can  re 
member  now  I  " 

"Sure?  No  small  leetle  cr-rime?  Not  las' 
night?  Me,  I  jus'  got  up.  I  have  not  hear1." 

Jeff  considered  this  suggestion  carefully.  "  No. 
I  am  sure.  Not  for  years.  Some  mistake,  I 
guess.  Or  maybe  he  just  wanted  to  see  me  about 
something  else.  Why  didn't  he  come  in?  " 

'*  I  mek  r-reques'  of  heem  that  he  do  not,"  said 
Monte. 

"I  see,"  Jeff  laughed.  "Come  on;  we'll  go 
see  him.  You  don't  want  to  get  into  trouble." 

They  crossed  the  bridge  and  met  the  sheriff 
just  within  the  fortifications,  returning  in  a 
crowded  automobile.  Jeff  held  up  his  hand.  .The 
machine  stopped  and  the  posse  deployed — except 
Billy,  who  acted  as  chauffeur. 

"  You  wanted  to  see  me,  sheriff — at  the  ho 
tel?" 

"  Why,  yes,  if  you  don't  mind,"  said  the 
sheriff. 

"Good  dinner?    I  ain't  had  breakfast  yet!" 

"  First-class,"  said  the  sheriff  cordially. 
"  Won't  your  friend  come  too?  " 

"  Ah,  sefior,  you  eshame  me  that  I  am  not  so 
hospitabble,  ees  eet  not?  "  purred  Monte,  as  he 
followed  Jeff  into  the  tonneau. 

The  sheriff  reddened  and  Billy  choked. 

14  Nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  the  sheriff  hastily, 
lapsing  into  literalness.  "  You  were  quite  withitt 


120  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

your  rights.  For  that  matter,  I  know  you  were 
at  your  own  bank,  dealing,  when  the  crime  was 
committed.  I  am  holding  you  for  the  present  as 
a  possible  accessory;  and,  if  not,  then  as  a  ma 
terial  witness.  By  the  way,  Monte,  would  you 
mind  if  I  sent  some  men  to  look  through  your 
place?  There  is  a  matter  of  some  thirty  thou 
sand  dollars  missing.  Lake  asked  us  to  look  for 
it.  I  have  papers  for  it  if  you  care  to  see  them." 

"Oh,  no,  seiior!"  said  Monte.  He  handed 
over  a  key.  "  La  casa  es  suyo!  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  sheriff,  with  unmoved 
gravity.  "Anything  of  yours  you  want  'em  to 
bring,  Bransford?  " 

"  Why,  no,"  said  Jeff  cheerfully.  "  I've  got 
nothing  there  but  my  saddle,  my  gun  and  an  old 
football  suit  that  belongs  to  'Gene  Baird,  over  on 
the  West  Side;  but  if  you  want  me  to  stay  long, 
I  wish  you'd  look  after  my  horse." 

"  I  too  have  lef  there  my  gun  that  I  keep  to 
protec'  my  leetle  house,"  observed  Monte. 
"  Tell  some  one  to  keep  eet  for  me.  I  am  much 
attach'  to  that  gun." 

"  Why,  yes,  I  have  seen  that  gun,  I  think," 
said  the  sheriff.  "  .They'll  look  out  for  it.  All 
right,  Billy!" 

The  car  turned  back. 

"  Oh — you  were  speaking  about  Monte  being 
an  accessory.  I  didn't  get  in  till  'way  late  last 
night,  and  I've  been  asleep  all  day,"  said  Jeff 


TAKEN  121 

apologetically.  "  Might  I  ask  before  or  after  ex 
actly  what  fact  Monte  was  an  accessory?  " 

"  Bank  robbery,  for  one  thing." 

"Ah!  ...  That  would  be  Lake's  bank? 
Anything  else  ?  " 

The  sheriff  was  not  a  patient  man  and  he  had 
borne  much;  also,  he  liked  Lars  Porsena.  Per 
fection,  even  in  trifles,  is  rare  and  wins  affection. 
He  turned  on  Jeff,  with  an  angry  growl. 

"Murder!" 

"  Lake?  "  murmured  Jeff  hopefully. 

The  sheriff  continued,  ignoring  and,  indeed,  only 
half  sensing  the  purport  of  Jeff's  comment: 

"  At  least,  the  wound  may  not  be  mortal." 

"  That's  too  bad,"  said  Jeff.  He  was,  if  pos 
sible,  more  cheerful  than  ever. 

The  sheriff  glared  at  him.  Billy,  from  the 
front  seat,  threw  a  word  of  explanation  over 
his  shoulder.  €<  It's  not  Lake.  The  watch 
man." 

"Oh,  old  Lars  Porsena?  That's  different. 
Not  a  bad  sort,  Lars.  Maybe  he'll  get  well. 
Hope  so.  ...  And  I  shot  him?  Dear  me! 
When  did  it  happen?  " 

"  You'll  find  out  soon  enough !  "  said  the  sheriff 
grimly.  "  Your  preliminary's  right  away." 

"  Hell,  I  haven't  had  breakfast  yet!  "  Jeff  pro 
tested.  "  Feed  us  first  or  we  won't  be  tried  at 
all." 


122  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

Within  the  jail,  while  the  sheriff  spoke  with  his 
warder,  it  occurred  to  Billy  that,  since  Jimmy 
Phillips  was  not  to  be  seen,  he  might  as  well  carry 
his  own  friendly  message.  So  he  said  guard 
edly: 

"  Buck  up,  old  man !  Keep  a  stiff  upper  lip  and, 
be  careful  what  you  say.  This  is  only  your  pre 
liminary  trial,  remember.  Lots  of  things  may 
happen  before  court  sets.  The  devil  looks  after 
his  own,  you  know." 

Jeff  had  a  good  ear  for  voices,  however,  and 
Billy's  mustache  still  kept  more  than  a  hint  of 
Mephistopheles.  Jeff  slowly  surveyed  Billy's 
natty  attire,  with  a  lingering  and  insulting  interest 
for  such  evidences  of  prosperity  as  silken  hosiery 
and  a  rather  fervid  scarfpin.  At  last  his  eye  met 
Billy's,  and  Billy  was  blushing. 

"Does  he?"  drawled  Jeff  languidly.  "Ah! 
r.  .  .  You  own  the  car,  then?  " 

Poor  Billy! 

Notwithstanding  the  ingratitude  of  this  rebuff, 
Billy  sought  out  Jimmy  Phillips  and  recounted  to 
him  the  circumstances  of  the  arrest. 

"  Oh,  naughty,  naughty !  "  said  the  deputy, 
caressing  his  nose.  "  Lake's  been  a  cowman  on 
Rainbow.  He  knew  the  brand  on  that  horse;  he 
knew  Jeff  was  chummy  with  Monte.  He  knew  in 
all  reason  that  Jeff  was  in  there,  and  most  likely 
he  knew  it  all  the  time.  So  he  sneaks  off  to  see 


TAKEN  123 

Lars — after  shooting  him  from  ambush,  damn 
him ! — and  sends  you  to  take  Jeff.  Looks  like  he 
might  be  willing  for  you  and  Jeff  to  damage  either, 
which  or  both  of  yourselves,  as  the  case  may 
be." 

"  It  looks  so,"  said  Billy. 

"  Must  be  a  fine  girl !  "  murmured  Jimmy  ab 
sently.  "Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do?  It 
looks  pretty  plain." 

"  It  looks  plain  to  us — but  we  haven't  got  a 
single  tangible  thing  against  Lake  yet.  We'd  be 
laughed  out  of  court  if  we  brought  an  accusation 
against  him.  We'll  have  to  wait  and  keep  our 
eyes  open." 

"You're  sure  Lake  did  it?  There  was  no 
rubber  nosepiece  at  Monte's  house.  All  the  rest 
of  the  football  outfit — but  not  that.  That  looks 
bad  for  Jeff." 

"  On  the  contrary,  that  is  the  strongest  link 
against  Lake.  I  dare  say  Buttinski — Mr.  Brans- 
ford — is  eminently  capable  of  bank  robbery  at 
odd  moments;  but  I  know  approximately  where 
that  noseguard  was  at  sharp  midnight — after  the 
watchman  was  shot."  Here  Billy  swore  men 
tally,  having  a  very  definite  guess  as  to  how  Jeff 
might  have  lost  the  noseguard.  "  Lake,  Clarke, 
Turnbull,  Thompson,  Alec  or  myself — one  of  the 
six  of  us — brought  that  noseguard  to  the  bank 
after  the  robbery,  and  only  one  of  the  six  had  a 
motive — and  a  key." 


124  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"  Only  one  of  you  had  a  key,"  corrected  Jimmy 
cruelly.  "  But  can't  Jeff  prove  where  he  was, 
maybe  ?  " 

"  He  won't." 

"  I'd  sure  like  to  see  her,"  said  Jimmy, 


CHAPTER  X 
THE  ALIBI 

"  And  all  love's  clanging  trumpets  shocked  and  blew." 

"The  executioner's  argument  was,  that  you  couldn't  cut  off 
a  head  unless  there  was  a  body  to  cut  it  off  from;  that  he  had 
never  had  to  do  such  a  thing  before,  and  he  wasn't  going  to 
begin  at  his  time  of  life." — Alice  in  Wonderland. 

r~T^HE  justice  of  the  peace,  when  the  county 
JL  court  was  not  in  session,  held  hearings  in 
the  courtroom  proper,  which  occupied  the  entire 
second  story  of  the  county  courthouse.  The  room 
was  crowded.  It  was  a  new  courthouse ;  there  are 
people  impatient  to  try  even  a  new  hearse;  and 
this  bade  fair  to  be  Arcadia's  first  cause  celebre. 

Jeff  sat  in  the  prisoner's  stall,  a  target  for 
boring  eyes.  He  was  conscious  of  an  undesirable 
situation;  exactly  how  tight  a  place  it  was  he  had 
no  means  of  knowing  until  he  should  have  heard 
the  evidence.  The  room  was  plainly  hostile ;  black 
looks  were  cast  upon  him.  Deputy  Phillips,  as  he 
entered  arm  in  arm  with  the  sometime  devil,  gave 
the  prisoner  an  intent  but  non-committal  look, 
which  Jeff  rightly  interpreted  as  assurance  of  a 
friend  in  ambush;  he  felt  unaccountably  sure  of 

135 


126  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

the  devil's  fraternal  aid;  Monte,  lolling  within  the 
rail  of  the  witness-box,  smiled  across  at  him. 
Still,  he  would  have  felt  better  for  another 
friendly  face  or  two,  he  thought — say,  John  Wes 
ley  Pringle's, 

Jeff  looked  from  the  open  window.  Cotton- 
woods,  well  watered,  give  swiftest  growth  of  any 
trees  and  are  therefore  the  dominant  feature  of 
new  communities  in  dry  lands.  The  courthouse 
yard  was  crowded  with  them :  Jeff,  from  the  win 
dow,  could  see  nothing  but  their  green  plumes; 
and  his  thoughts  ran  naturally  upon  gardens — or, 
to  be  more  accurate,  upon  a  garden. 

Would  she  lose  faith  in  him?  Had  she  heard 
yet?  Would  he  be  able  to  clear  himself?  No 
mere  acquittal  would  do.  Because  of  Ellinor, 
there  must  be  no  question,  no  verdict  of  Not 
Proven.  She  would  go  East  to-morrow.  Per 
haps  she  would  not  hear  of  his  arrest  at  all.  He 
hoped  not.  The  bank  robbery,  the  murder — yes, 
she  would  hear  of  them,  perhaps;  but  why  need 
she  hear  his  name?  Hers  was  a  world  so  dif 
ferent!  He  fell  into  a  muse  at  this. 

Deputy  Phillips  passed  and  stood  close  to  him, 
looking  down  from  the  window.  His  back  was 
to  Jeff;  but,  under  cover  of  the  confused  hum 
of  many  voices,  he  spake  low  from  the  corner 
of  his  mouth: 

"  Play  your  hand  close  to  your  bosom,  old- 
timer!  Wait  for  the  draw  and  watch  the 


THE  ALIBI  127 

dealer!  "  He  strolled  over  to  the  other  side  of 
the  judicial  bench  whence  he  came. 

This  vulgar  speech  betrayed  Jimmy  as  one 
given  to  evil  courses;  but  to  Jeff  that  muttered 
.warning  was  welcome  as  thunder  of  Bliicher's 
squadrons  to  British  squares  at  Waterloo. 

Down  the  aisle  came  a  procession  consciously 
important — the  prosecuting  attorney;  the  bank's 
lawyer,  who  was  to  assist,  "  for  the  people  " ;  and 
Lake  himself.  As  they  passed  the  gate  Jeff  smiled 
his  sweetest. 

"Hello,  Wally!"  Lake's  name  was  Stephen 
Walter. 

Wally  made  no  verbal  response;  but  his  un 
dershot  jaw  did  the  steel-trap  act  and  there  was 
a  triumphant  glitter  in  his  eye.  He  turned  his 
broad  back  pointedly — and  Jeff  smiled  again. 

The  justice  took  his  seat  on  the  raised  dais 
intervening  between  Jeff  and  the  sheriff's  desk. 
Court  was  opened.  The  usual  tedious  prelim 
inaries  followed.  Jeff  waived  a  jury  trial,  refused 
a  lawyer  and  announced  that  he  would  call  no 
witnesses  at  present. 

In  an  impressive  stillness  the  prosecutor  rose 
for  his  opening  statement.  Condensed,  it  re 
counted  the  history  of  the  crime,  so  far  as  known; 
fixed  the  time  by  the  watchman's  statement — to 
be  confirmed,  he  said,  by  another  witness,  the 
telephone  girl  on  duty  at  that  hour,  who  had 
heard  the  explosion  and  the  ensuing  gunshot; 


128  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

touched  upon  that  watchman's  faithful  service  and 
his  present  desperate  condition.  He  told  of  the 
late  finding  of  the  injured  man,  the  meeting  in 
the  bank,  the  sum  taken  by  the  robber,  and  the 
discovery  in  the  bank  of  the  rubber  nosepiece, 
which  he  submitted  as  Exhibit  A.  He  cited  the 
witnesses  by  whom  he  would  prove  each  state 
ment,  and  laid  special  stress  upon  the  fact  that  the 
witness  Clarke  would  testify  that  the  nosepiece 
had  been  found  upon  the  shattered  fragments  of 
the  safe  door — conclusive  proof  that  it  had  been 
dropped  after  the  crime.  And  he  then  held  forth 
at  some  length  upon  the  hand  of  Providence,  as 
manifested  in  the  unconscious  self-betrayal  which 
had  frustrated  and  brought  to  naught  the  pris 
oner's  fiendish  designs.  On  the  whole,  he  spoke 
well  of  Providence. 

Now  Jeff  had  not  once  thought  of  the  discarded 
noseguard  since  he  first  found  it  in  his  way;  he 
began  to  see  how  tightly  the  net  was  drawn  round 
him.  "  There  was  a  serpent  in  the  garden,"  he 
reflected.  A  word  from  Miss  Hoffman  would  set 
him  free.  If  she  gave  that  word  at  once,  it  would 
be  unpleasant  for  her:  but  if  she  gave  it  later, 
as  a  last  resort,  it  would  be  more  than  unpleasant. 
And  in  that  same  hurried  moment,  Jeff  knew  that 
he  would  not  call  upon  her  for  that  word.  All 
his  crowded  life,  he  had  kept  the  happy  knack 
of  falling  on  his  feet:  the  stars,  that  fought  in 
their  courses  against  Sisera,  had  ever  fought  for 


THE  ALIBI  129 

reckless  Bransford.  He  decided,  with  lovable 
folly,  to  trust  to  chance,  to  his  wits  and  to  his 
friends. 

"  And  now,  Your  Honor,  we  come  to  the  un 
breakable  chain  of  evidence  which  fatally  links 
the  prisoner  at  the  bar  to  this  crime.  We  will 
prove  that  the  prisoner  was  not  invited  to  the 
masquerade  ball  given  last  night  by  Mr.  Lake. 
We  will  prove " 

There  was  a  stir  in  the  courtroom;  the  pros 
ecutor  paused,  disconcerted.  Eyes  were  turned  to 
the  double  door  at  the  back  of  the  courtroom. 
In  the  entryway  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  huddled 
a  group  of  shrinking  girls.  Before  them,  one  foot 
upon  the  threshold,  stood  Ellinor  Hoffman.  She 
shook  off  a  detaining  hand  and  stepped  into  the 
roomx  head  erect,  proud,  pale.  Across  the  sea 
of  curious  faces  her  eyes  met  the  prisoner's.  Of 
all  the  courtroom,  Billy  and  Deputy  Phillips  alone 
turned  then  to  watch  Jeff's  face.  They  saw  an 
almost  imperceptible  shake  of  his  head,  a  finger 
on  lip,  a  reassuring  gesture — saw,  too,  the  quick 
pulsebeat  at  his  throat. 

The  color  flooded  back  to  Ellinor's  face.  Men 
nearest  the  door  were  swift  to  bring  chairs.  The 
prosecutor  resumed  his  interrupted  speech — his 
voice  was  deep,  hard,  vibrant. 

"  Your  Honor,  the  counts  against  this  man  are 
fairly  damning!  We  will  prove  that  he  was 
shaved  in  a  barber  shop  in  Arcadia  at  ten  o'clock 


130  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

last  night;  that  he  then  rode  a  roan  horse;  that 
the  horse  was  then  sweating  profusely;  that  this 
horse  was  afterward  found  at  the  house  of — but 
we  will  take  that  up  later.  We  will  prove  by 
many  witnesses  that  among  the  masqueraders  was 
a  man  wearing  a  football  suit,  wearing  a  nose- 
piece  similar — entirely  similar — to  the  one  found 
in  the  bank,  which  now  lies  before  you.  We  will 
prove  that  this  football  player  was  not  seen  in 
the  ballroom  after  the  hour  of  eleven  P.M.  We 
will  prove  that  when  he  was  next  seen,  without 
the  ballroom,  it  was  not  until  sufficient  time  had 
elapsed  for  him  to  have  committed  this  awful 


crime." 


Ellinor  half  rose  from  her  seat;  again  Jeff 
flashed  a  warning  at  her. 

1{  We  will  prove  this,  Your  Honor,  by  a  most 
unwilling  witness — Rosalio  Marquez  " — Monte 
smiled  across  at  Jeff — "  a  friend  of  the  prisoner, 
who,  in  his  behalf,  has  not  scrupled  to  defy 
the  majesty  of  the  law!  We  can  prove  by 
this  witness,  this  reluctant  witness,  that  when 
he  returned  to  his  home,  shortly  after  mid 
night,  he  found  there  the  prisoner's  horse, 
which  had  not  been  there  when  Mr.  Mar 
quez  left  the  house  some  four  hours  previously: 
and  that,  at  some  time  subsequent  to  twelve 
o'clock,  the  witness  Marquez  was  wakened  by 
the  entrance  of  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  clad  in  a 
football  suit,  but  wearing  no  nosepiece  with  it  I 


THE  ALIBI  131 

And  we  have  the  evidence  of  the  sheriff's  posse 
that  they  found  in  the  home  of  the  witness,  Rosalio 
Marquez,  the  football  suit — which  we  offer  as 
Exhibit  B.  Nay,  more!  The  prisoner  did  not 
deny,  and  indeed  admitted,  that  this  uniform  was 
his ;  but — mark  this ! — the  searching  party  found 
no  nosepiece  there! 

"  It  is  true,  Your  Honor,  that  the  stolen  money 
was  not  found  upon  the  prisoner;  it  is  true  that 
the  prisoner  made  no  use  of  the  opportunity  to 
escape  offered  him  by  his  lawless  and  disreputa 
ble  friend,  Rosalio  Marquez — a  common  gam 
bler!  Doubtless,  Your  Honor,  his  cunning  had 
devised  some  diabolical  plan  upon  which  he  relied 
to  absolve  himself  from  suspicion;  and  now,  trem 
bling,  he  has  for  the  first  time  learned  of  the  fatal 
flaw  in  his  concocted  defense,  which  he  had  so 
fondly  deemed  invincible !  " 

All  eyes,  including  the  orator's,  here  turned 
upon  the  prisoner — to  find  him,  so  far  from  trem 
bling,  quite  otherwise  engaged.  The  prisoner's 
elbow  was  upon  the  rail,  his  chin  in  his  hand;  he 
regarded  Mr.  Lake  attentively,  with  cheerful 
amusement  and  a  quizzical  smile  which  in  some 
way  subtly  carried  an  expression  of  mockery  and 
malicious  triumph.  To  this  fixed  and  disconcert 
ing  regard  Mr.  Lake  opposed  an  iron  front,  but 
the  effort  required  was  apparent  to  all. 

There  was  an  uneasy  rustling  through  the 
court.  The  prisoner's  bearing  was  convincing,  nat- 


132  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

ural;  this  was  no  mere  brazen  assuming.  The 
banker's  forced  composure  was  not  natural !  He 
should  have  been  an  angry  banker.  Of  the  two 
men,  Lake  was  the  less  at  ease.  The  prisoner's 
face  turned  at  last  toward  the  door.  Blank  un- 
recognition  was  in  his  eyes  as  they  swept  past 
Ellinor,  but  he  shook  his  head  once  more,  very 
slightly. 

There  was  a  sense  of  mystery  in  the  air — a 
buzz  and  burr  of  whispers;  a  rustle  of  moving 
feet.  The  audience  noticeably  relaxed  its  implaca 
ble  attitude  toward  the  accused,  eyed  him  with 
a  different  interest,  seemed  to  feel  for  the  first 
time  that,  after  all,  he  was  accused  merely,  and 
that  his  defense  had  not  yet  been  heard.  The 
prosecutor  felt  this  subtle  change;  it  lamed  his 
periods. 

"  It  is  true,  Your  Honor,  that  no  eye  save 
God's  saw  this  guilty  man  do  this  deed;  but  the 
web  of  circumstantial  evidence  is  so  closely  drawn, 
so  far-reaching,  so  unanswerable,  so  damning,  that 
no  defense  can  avail  him  except  the  improbable, 
the  impossible  establishment  of  an  alibi  so  com 
plete,  so  convincing,  as  to  satisfy  even  his  bitterest 
enemy!  We  will  ask  you,  Your  Honor,  when 
you  have  seen  how  fully  the  evidence  bears  out 
our  every  contention,  to  commit  the  prisoner,  with 
out  bail,  to  answer  the  charge  of  robbery  and  at 
tempted  murder! " 

Then,  by  the  door,  Jeff  saw  the  girl  start  up. 


THE  ALIBI  133 

She  swept  down  the  aisle,  radiant,  brave,  unfear- 
ing,  resolute,  all  half-gods  gone;  she  shone  at 
him — proud,  glowing,  triumphant! 

A  hush  fell  upon  the  thrilled  room.  Jeff  was 
on  his  feet,  his  hand  held  out  to  stay  her;  his 
eyes  spoke  to  hers.  She  stopped  as  at  a  com 
mand.  Scarcely  slower,  Billy  was  at  her  side. 
"Wait!  Wait!"  he  whispered.  "See  what  he 
has  to  say.  There  will  be  always  time  for  that." 
Jeff's  eyes  held  hers;  she  sank  into  an  offered 
chair. 

Cheated,  disappointed,  the  court  took  breath 
again.  Their  dramatic  moment  had  been  nothing 
but  their  own  nerves;  their  own  excited  imagin 
ings  had  attached  a  pulse-fluttering  significance  to 
the  flushed  cheeks  of  a  prying  girl,  seeking  a  better 
place  to  see  and  hear,  to  gratify  her  morbid  curi 
osity. 

Jeff  turned  to  the  bench. 

"  Your  Honor,  I  have  a  perfectly  good  line  of 
defense ;  and  I  trust  no  friend  of  mine  will  under 
take  to  change  it.  I  will  keep  you  but  a  minute," 
he  said  colloquially.  "  I  will  not  waste  your  time 
combating  the  ingenious  theory  which  the  prose 
cution  has  built  up,  or  in  cross-examination  of 
their  witnesses,  who,  I  feel  sure  " — here  he  bowed 
to  the  cloud  of  witnesses — "  will  testify  only  to 
the  truth.  I  quite  agree  with  my  learned  friend  " 
— another  graceful  bow — "  that  the  case  he  has 
so  ably  presented  is  so  strong  that  it  can  success- 


134  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

fully  be  rebutted  only  by  an  alibi  so  clear  and  so 
incontestable,  as  my  learned  friend  has  so  aptly 
phrased  it,  as  to  convince  if  not  satisfy  .  .  .  my 
bitterest  enemy!"  The  bow,  the  subtle,  icy  in 
tonation,  edged  the  words.  The  courtroom 
thrilled  again  at  the  unspoken  thought:  "An 
enemy  hath  done  this  thing!  "  If,  in  the  stillness, 
the  prisoner  had  quoted  the  words  aloud  in  fierce 
denunciation,  the  effect  could  not  have  been  dif 
ferent  or  more  startling.  "  And  that,  Your 
Honor,  is  precisely  what  I  propose  to  do !  " 

His  Honor  was  puzzled.  He  was  a  good  judge 
of  men;  and  the  prisoner's  face  was  not  a  bad 
face. 

"  But,"  he  objected,  "  you  have  refused  to  call 
any  witnesses  for  the  defense.  Your  unsupported 
word  will  count  for  nothing.  You  cannot  prove 
an  alibi  alone." 

"  Can't  I  ?  "  said  Jeff.     "  Watch  me !  " 

With  a  single  motion  he  was  through  the  open 
window.  Bending  branches  of  the  nearest  cot- 
tonwood  broke  his  fall — the  other  trees  hid  his 
flight. 

Behind  him  rose  uproar,  tumult  and  hullabaloo, 
a  mass  of  struggling  men  at  cross  purposes.  Gun 
in  hand,  the  sheriff,  stumbling  over  some  one's 
foot — Monte's — ran  to  the  window ;  but  the  faith 
ful  deputy  was  before  him,  blocking  the  way, 
firing  with  loving  care — at  one  particular  tree- 
trunk.  He  was  a  good  shot,  Jimmy.  He  after- 


THE  ALIBI  135 

ward  showed  with  pride  where  each  ball  had 
struck  in  a  scant  six-inch  space.  Vainly  the  sheriff 
tried  to  force  his  way  through.  There  was  but 
one  stairway,  and  it  was  jammed.  Before  the 
foremost  pursuer  had  reached  the  open  Jeff  had 
borrowed  one  of  the  saddled  horses  hitched  at 
the  rack  and  was  away  to  the  hills. 

As  Billy  struggled  through  the  press,  searching 
for  Ellinor,  he  found  himself  at  Jimmy's  elbow. 

"  A  dead  game  sport — any  turn  in  the  road !  " 
agreed  Billy. 

The  deputy  nodded  curtly;  but  his  answer  was 
inconsequent : 

"  Rather  in  the  brunette  line — that  bit  of  tangi 
ble  evidence  I  " 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  NETTLE,  DANGER 

"Bushel  o'  wheat,  bushel  o'  rye — 
All  'at  ain't  ready,  holler  'I'!" 

— Hide  and  Sett. 

DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN  lies  lost  in  the 
desert,  dwarfed  by  the  greatness  all  about. 
Its  form  is  that  of  a  crater  split  from  north  to 
south  into  irregular  halves.  Through  that  nar 
row  cleft  ran  a  straight  road,  once  the  well- 
traveled  thoroughfare  from  Rainbow  to  El  Paso. 
For  there  was  precious  water  within  those  up 
heaved  walls;  it  was  but  three  miles  from  portal 
to  portal;  the  slight  climb  to  the  divide  had  not 
been  grudged.  Time  was  when  campfires  were 
nightly  merry  to  light  the  narrow  cliffs  of  Double 
Mountain;  when  songs  were  gay  to  echo  from 
them;  when  this  had  been  the  only  watering  place 
to  break  the  long  span  across  the  desert.  The 
railroad  had  changed  all  this,  and  the  silent 
leagues  of  that  old  road  lay  untrodden  in  the 
sun. 

Not  untrodden  on  this  the  day  after  Jeff  had 
established  his  alibi.     A  traveler  followed  that 

136 


THE  NETTLE,  DANGER          137 

lonely  road  to  Double  Mountain ;  and  behind,  half 
way  to  Rainbow  Range,  was  a  streak  of  dust; 
which  gained  on  him.  The  traveler's  sorrel  horse 
was  weary,  for  it  was  the  very  horse  Jeff  Brans- 
ford  had  borrowed  from  the  hitching-rail  of  the 
courthouse  square;  the  traveler  was  that  able 
negotiator  himself;  and  the  pursuing  dust,  to  the 
best  of  Jeff's  knowledge  and  belief,  meant  him 
no  good  tidings. 

"  Now,  I  got  safe  away  from  the  foothills  be 
fore  day,"  soliloquized  Jeff.  "  Some  gentleman 
has  overtaken  me  with  a  spyglass,  I  reckon. 
Civilization's  getting  this  country  plumb  ruined! 
And  their  horses  are  fresh.  Peg  along,  Alibi! 
Maybe  I  can  pick  up  a  stray  horse  at  Double 
Mountain.  If  I  can't  there's  no  sort  of  use  trying 
to  get  away  on  you !  I'll  play  hide-and-go-seek- 
'em.  That'll  let  you  out,  anyway,  so  cheer  up! 
You  done  fine,  old  man!  If  I  ever  get  out  of 
this  I'll  buy  you  and  make  it  all  right  with  you. 
Pension  you  off  if  you  think  you'll  like  it.  Get 
along  now !  " 

Twenty  miles  to  Jeff's  right  the  railroad  paral 
leled  the  wagonroad  in  an  unbroken  tangent  of 
ninety  miles'  stretch.  A  southbound  passenger 
train  crawled  along  the  west  like  a  resolute  centi 
pede  plodding  to  a  date:  behind  the  fugitive, 
abreast,  now  far  ahead,  creeping  along  the  shin 
ing  straightaway.  Forty  miles  the  hour  was  her 
schedule;  yet  against  this  vast  horizon  she  could 


138  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

hardly  be  said  to  change  place  until,  sighting  be 
yond  her  puny  length,  a  new  angle  of  the  far 
western  wall  completed  the  trinomial  line. 

Escondido  was  hidden  in  a  dip  of  plain — 
whence  the  name,  Hidden,  when  done  into  Saxon 
speech.  The  train  was  lost  to  sight  when  she 
stopped  there,  but  Jeff  saw  the  tiny  steam  plume 
of  her  whistling  rise  in  the  clear  and  taintless  air; 
long  after,  the  faint  sound  of  it  hummed  drowsily 
by,  like  passing,  far-blown  horns  of  faerie  in  a 
dream.  And,  at  no  great  interval  thereafter,  a 
low-lying  dust  appeared  suddenly  on  the  hither 
rim  of  Escondido's  sunken  valley. 

Jeff  knew  the  land  as  you  know  your  hallway. 
That  line  of  dust  marked  the  trail  from  Escon 
dido  Valley  to  the  farther  gate  of  Double  Moun 
tain.  Even  if  he  should  be  lucky  enough  to  get 
a  change  of  mounts  at  the  spring  in  Double  Moun 
tain  Basin  he  would  be  intercepted.  Escape  by 
flight  was  impossible.  To  fight  his  way  out  was 
impossible.  He  had  no  gun;  and,  even  if  he  had 
a  gun,  he  could  not  see  his  way  to  fight,  under 
the  circumstances.  The  men  who  hunted  him 
down  were  only  doing  the  right  thing  as  they 
saw  it.  Had  Jeff  been  guilty,  it  would  have  been 
a  different  affair.  Being  innocent,  he  could  make 
no  fight  for  it.  He  was  cornered. 

"Said  the  little  Eohi'ppus: 
'  I'm  going  to  be  a  horse! '  H 


THE  NETTLE,  DANGER          139 

So  chanted  Jeff,  perceiving  the  hopelessness  of  his 
plight. 

The  best  gift  to  man — or,  if  not  the  best,  then 
at  least  the  rarest — is  the  power  to  meet  the 
emergency:  to  do  your  best  and  a  little  better 
than  your  best  when  nothing  less  will  serve:  to 
be  a  pinch  hitter.  It  is  to  be  thought  that  certain 
stages  of  affection,  and  more  particularly  the  pres 
ence  of  its  object,  affect  unfavorably  the  workings 
of  pure  intellect.  Certain  it  is  that  capable  Brans- 
ford,  who  had  cut  so  sorry  a  figure  in  Eden  gar 
den,  now,  in  these  distressing  but  Eveless  circum 
stances,  rose  to  the  occasion.  Collected,  resource 
ful,  he  grasped  every  possible  angle  of  the  situa 
tion  and,  with  the  rope  virtually  about  his  neck, 
cheerfully  planned  the  impossible — the  essence  of 
his  elastic  plan  being  to  climb  that  very  rope, 
hand  over  hand,  to  safety. 

"  Going  round  the  mountain  is  no  good  on  a 
give-out  horse.  They'll  follow  my  tracks,"  said 
Jeff  to  Jeff.  Men  who  are  much  alone  so  shape 
their  thoughts  by  voicing  them,  just  as  you  prac 
tice  conversation  rather  to  make  your  own  thought 
clear  to  yourself  than  to  enlighten  your  victim — 
beg  pardon — your  neighbor.  Just  a  slip  of  the! 
tongue.  Vecino  is  the  Spanish  for  neighbor,  you 
know.  Not  so  much  to  enlighten  your  neighbor 
as  to  find  out  for  yourself  precisely  what  it  is 
you  think.  "  Hiding  in  the  Basin  is  no  good. 
Can't  get  out.  Would  I  were  a  bird !  Only  one 


140  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

way.  Got  to  go  straight  up — disappear — vanish 

in  the  air.  4  Up  a  chimney,  up '  Naw,  that's 

backward !  '  Up  a  chimney,  down,  or  down  a 
chimney,  down;  but  not  up  a  chimney,  up,  nor 
down  a  chimney,  up ! '  So  that's  settled  1  Now 
let  me  see,  says  the  little  man.  Mighty  few 
Arcadians  know  me  well  enough  not  to  be  fooled 
— mebbe  so.  Lake?  Lake  won't  come.  He'll 
be  busy.  There's  Jimmy;  but  Jimmy's  got  a 
shocking  bad  memory  for  faces  sometimes,  just 
now,  my  face.  I  think,  maybe,  I  could  manage 
Jimmy.  The  sheriff?  That  would  be  real  awk 
ward,  I  reckon.  I'll  just  play  the  sheriff  isn't  in 
the  bunch  and  build  my  little  bluff  according  to 
that  pleasing  fancy;  for  if  he  comes  along  it  is  all 
off  with  little  Jeff ! 

"  Now  lemme  see !  If  Gwin's  working  that 
little  old  mine  of  his — why,  he'll  lie  himself  black 
in  the  face  just  for  the  principle  of  it.  Mighty  in- 
terestin'  talker,  Gwin  is.  And  if  no  one's  there, 
I'll  be  there.  Not  Jeff  Bransford;  he  got  away. 
I'll  be  Long — Tobe  Long — working  for  Gwin. 
Tobe  Long.  I  apprenticed  my  son  to  a  miner, 
and  the  first  thing  he  took  was  a  new  name !  " 

Far  away  on  the  side  of  Double  Mountain  he 
could  even  now  see  the  white  triangle  of  the  tent 
at  Gwin's  mine — the  Ophir — and  the  gray  dump 
spilling  down  the  hillside.  There  was  no  smoke 
to  be  seen.  Jeff  made  up  his  mind  there  was  no 
one  at  the  mine — which  was  what  he  devoutly 


THE  NETTLE,  DANGER          141 

hoped — and  further  developed  his  gleeful  hy 
pothesis. 

"  Let's  see  now,  jTobe.  Got  to  study  this  all 
out.  They  most  always  leave  all  their  kegs  full 
of  water  when  they  go  away,  so  they  won't  have 
to  pack  'em  up  the  first  thing  when  they  come 
back.  If  they  did,  I'm  all  right.  If  they  didn't, 
I'm  in  a  hell  of  a  fix!  They'll  leave  'em  full, 
though.  Of  course  they  did — else  the  kegs  would 
all  dry  up  and  fall  down."  He  glanced  over  his 
shoulder.  "  Them  fellows  are  ten  or  twelve  miles 
back,  I  reckon.  They'll  slow  up  so  soon  as  they 
see  I'm  headed  off.  I'll  have  time  to  fix  things 
up — if  only  there's  water  in  the  kegs  at  the 
mine !  "  He  patted  Alibi's  head :  "  Now,  old  man, 
do  your  damnedest!  It's  pretty  tough  on  you, 
but  your  part  will  soon  be  over." 

Alibi  had  made  a  poor  night  of  it,  what  with 
doubling  and  twisting  in  the  foothills,  the  bitter 
water  of  a  gyp  spring,  and  the  scanty  grass  of  a 
cedar  thicket;  but  he  did  his  plucky  best.  On 
the  legal  other  hand,  as  Jeff  had  prophesied,  the 
dustmakers  behind  had  slackened  their  gait  when 
they  perceived,  by  the  dust  of  Escondido  trail, 
that  their  allies  must  cut  the  quarry  off.  So 
Alibi  held  his  own  with  the  pursuit. 

He  came  to  the  rising  ground  leading  to  the 
sheer  base  of  Double  Mountain;  then  to  the  nar 
row  Gap  where  the  mountain  had  fallen  asunder 
in  some  age-old  catacylsm.  To  the  left,  the  dump 


142  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

of  Ophir  Mine  hung  on  the  hillside  above  the 
pass;  and  on  the  broad  trail  zigzagging  up  to  it 
were  burro-tracks,  but  no  fresh  tracks  of  men. 
The  flaps  of  the  white  tent  on  the  dump  were 
tightly  closed.  There  was  no  one  at  the  mine. 
Jeff  passed  within  the  walls,  through  frowning 
gates  of  porphyry  and  gneiss,  and  urged  Alibi 
up  the  canon.  It  was  half  a  mile  to  the  spring. 
On  the  way  he  found  three  shaggy  burros  grazing 
beside  the  road.  He  drove  them  into  the  small 
pen  by  the  spring  and  tossed  his  rope  on  the 
largest  one.  Then  he  unsaddled  Alibi,  tied  him 
to  the  fence  by  the  bridle  rein,  and  searched  his 
pockets  for  an  old  letter.  This  found,  he  pen 
ciled  a  note  and  tied  it  to  the  saddle.  It  was 
brief: 

EN  ROUTE,  FOUR  P.M. 
Please  water  my  horse  when  he  cools  off. 

Your  little  friend, 

JEFF  BRANSFORD. 
P.  S.    Excuse  haste. 

He  made  a  plain  trail  of  high-heeled  boot- 
tracks  to  the  spring,  where  he  drank  deep;  thence 
beyond,  through  the  sandy  soil,  to  the  nearest 
rocky  ridge.  Then,  careful  that  every  step  fell 
on  a  bare  rock,  he  came  circuitously  back  to  the 
corral,  climbed  the  fence,  made  his  way  to  the 
tied  burro,  improvised  a  bridle  of  cunning  half- 
hitches,  slipped  from  the  fence  to  the  burro's 


THE  NETTLE,  DANGER          143 

back — a  burro,  by  the  way,  is  a  donkey — named 
the  burro  anew  as  Balaam,  and  went  back  down 
the  canon  at  the  best  pace  of  which  the  belabored 
and  astonished  Balaam  was  capable.  As  Jeff  had 
hoped,  the  two  other  burros — or  the  other  two 
burros,  to  be  precise — followed  sociably,  braying 
remonstrance. 

Without  the  mouth  of  the  canon  Jeff  rode  up 
the  steep  trail  to  the  mine,  also  to  the  great  dis 
gust  of  his  mount;  but  he  must  not  walk — it 
would  leave  boot-tracks.  For  the  same  reason, 
after  freeing  Balaam,  his  first  action  was  to  pull 
off  the  telltale  boots  and  replace  them  with  the 
smallest  pair  of  hobnailed  miner's  shoes  in  the 
tent.  With  these  he  carefully  obliterated  the  few 
boot-tracks  at  the  tent  door. 

The  water-kegs  were  full ;  Jeff  swore  his  joyful 
gratitude  and  turned  his  eye  to  the  plain.  The 
pursuing  dust  was  still  far  away — seven  miles,  he 
estimated,  or  possibly  eight.  The  three  burros 
nibbled  on  the  bushes  below  the  dump;  plainly 
intending  to  stay  round  camp  with  an  eye  for 
possible  tips.  Jeff  gave  his  whole-hearted  atten 
tion  to  the  mise-en-scene. 

Never  did  stage  manager  toil  so  hard,  so  faith 
fully,  so  effectively  as  this  one — or  with  so  great 
a  need.  He  took  stock  of  the  available  stage 
properties,  beginning  with  a  careful  inventory  of 
the  grub-chest.  To  betray  ignorance  of  its  possi 
bilities  or  deficiencies  would  be  fatal.  Following 


144  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

a  narrow  trail  round  a  little  shoulder  of  hill,  he 
found  the  powder  magazine.  Taking  three  sticks 
of  dynamite,  with  fuse  and  caps,  he  searched  the 
tent  for  the  candle-box,  lit  a  candle  and  went  into 
the  tunnel  with  a  brisk  trot.  "  If  this  was  a  case 
of  fight,  now,  I'd  have  some  pretty  fair  weapons 
here  for  close  quarters,"  said  Jeff;  "but  the  way 
I'm  fixed  I  can't.  No  fighting  goes — unless  Lake 
comes." 

In  the  tunnel  his  luck  held  good.  He  found  a 
number  of  good-sized  chunks  of  rock  stacked 
along  the  wall  near  the  breast — evidently  reserved 
for  the  ore  pile  at  a  more  convenient  season.  Be 
neath  three  of  the  largest  of  these  rocks  he  care 
fully  adjusted  the  three  sticks  of  giant  powder, 
properly  capped  and  fused,  lit  the  fuses  and  re 
treated  to  the  safety  of  the  dump.  Three  muf 
fled  detonations  followed  at  short  intervals. 
Having  thus  announced  the  presence  of  mining 
operations,  he  built  a  fire  on  the  kitchen  side  of 
the  dump  to  further  advertise  a  mind  conscious 
of  its  own  rectitude.  The  pleasant  shadow  of 
the  hills  was  cool  about  him;  the  flame  rose  clear 
and  bright  in  the  windless  air,  to  be  seen  from 
far  away. 

He  looked  at  the  location  papers  in  the  monu 
ment  by  the  ore  stack;  simultaneously,  by  way  of 
economizing  time,  emptying  a  can  of  salmon. 
This  was  partly  for  the  added  verisimilitude  of 
the  empty  tin,  partly  because  he  was  ravenously 


THE  NETTLE,  DANGER          145 

hungry.  You  may  guess  how  he  emptied  the 
tin. 

The  mine  had  changed  owners  since  Jeff's 
knowledge  of  it.  It  was  no  longer  Gwin's  sole 
property.  The  notice  bore  the  signatures  of  J. 
Gwin,  C.  W.  Sanders  and  Walter  Fleck.  Jeff 
grinned  and  his  eye  brightened.  He  knew  Fleck 
only  slightly;  but  Fleck's  reputation  among  the 
cowmen  was  good — that  is  to  say,  as  you  would 
see  it,  very  bad. 

Pappy  Sanders,  postmaster  and  storekeeper 
of  Escondido,  was  an  old  and  sorely  tried  friend 
of  Jeff's.  If  Pappy  had  grub-staked  the  out 
fit A  far-away  plan  began  to  shape  vaguely 

in  his  fertile  brain.  He  took  the  little  turquoise 
horse  from  his  pocket  and  laid  it  in  the  till  of 
the  violated  trunk.  Were  you  told  about  the  vio 
lated  trunk?  Never  mind — he  had  done  any 
amount  of  other  things  of  which  you  have  not 
been  told;  for  it  was  his  task,  in  the  brief  time 
allotted  to  him,  to  master  all  the  innumerable 
details  needful  for  an  intelligent  reading  of  his 
part.  He  must  make  no  blunders. 

He  toiled  like  two  men,  each  swifter  and  more 
savagely  efficient  than  himself;  he  upset  the  prim, 
old  he-maidenish  order  of  that  carefully  packed, 
spick-and-span  camp;  he  rumpled  the  beds; 
strewed  old  clothes,  books,  candles,  specimens, 
pipes  and  cigarette  papers  with  lavish  hand;  made 
untidy,  sprawling  heaps  of  tin  plates;  knives, 


146  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

forks  and  spoons;  spilled  candle-grease  and  to 
bacco  on  the  scoured  table;  and  generally  gave 
things  a  cozy  and  habitable  appearance. 

He  gave  a  hundred  deft  touches  here  and  there. 
He  spread  an  open  book  face  downward  on  the 
table.  (It  was  "Alice  in  Wonderland,"  and  he 
opened  it  at  the  Mock-Turtle.)  Meanwhile  an 
unoccupied  eye  snatched  titles  from  a  shelf  of 
books  against  possible  question;  he  penned  a  short 
note  to  himself — Mr.  Tobe  Long — in  Gwin's 
handwriting,  folded  the  note  to  creases,  twisted 
it  to  a  spill,  lit  it,  burned  a  corner  of  it,  pinched 
it  out  and  threw  it  under  the  table;  and,  while 
doing  these  and  other  things,  he  somehow  man 
aged  to  shed  every  article  of  Jeff  Bransford's 
clothing  and  to  put  on  the  work-stained  garments 
of  a  miner. 

The  perspiration  on  his  face  was  no  stage 
make-up,  but  good,  honest  sweat.  He  rubbed 
stone-dust  and  sand  on  his  sweaty  arms  and  into 
his  sweaty  hair;  he  rubbed  most  of  it  from  his 
hair  and  into  the  two-days'  stubble  on  his  face, 
simultaneously  fishing  razor  and  mug  from  the 
trunk,  leaving  them  in  evidence  on  the  table.  He 
worked  stone-dust  into  his  ears,  behind  his  ears; 
he  grimed  it  on  forehead  and  neck;  he  even 
dropped  a  little  into  his  shoes,  which  all  this  while 
had  been  performing  independent  miracles  to 
make  the  camp  look  comfortable.  He  threw  on 
a  dingy  cap,  thrust  in  the  cap  a  miner's  candle- 


147 

stick,  with  a  lighted  candle,  that  it  might  properly 
drip  upon  him  while  he  arranged  further  details 
— and  so  faced  the  world  as  Tobe  Long,  a  stooped 
and  overworked  man! 

Mr.  Tobe  Long,  working  with  feverish  haste, 
dug  a  small  cave  halfway  down  the  steep  side  of 
the  dump  farthest  from  the  road  and  buried 
therein  a  tightly  rolled  bundle  containing  every 
article  appertaining  to  the  defunct  Bransford, 
with  the  single  exception  of  the  little  eohippus;  a 
pocketknife,  which  a  miner  must  have  to  cut  pow 
der  and  fuse,  having  been  found  in  the  trunk — 
what  time  also  the  little  turquoise  horse  was  trans 
ferred  to  Mr.  Long's  pocket  to  bring  him  luck 
in  his  new  career — a  poor  thing  compared  with 
the  cowman's  keen  blade,  but  better  for  Mr. 
Long's  purposes,  as  smelling  strongly  of  dynamite. 
Then  Mr.  Long — Tobe — hid  the  grave  by  sliding 
and  shoveling  broken  rock  down  the  dump  upon  it. 

Next  he  threw  into  a  wheelbarrow  drills, 
spoon,  tamping  stick,  gads,  drill-hammer,  rock- 
hammer,  canteen,  shovel  and  pick — taking  care, 
even  in  his  haste,  to  select  a  properly  matched  set 
of  drills — and  trundled  the  barrow  up  the  drift 
at  a  pace  which  would  give  a  Miners'  Union  the 
rabies.  At  the  breast,  he  unshipped  his  cargo  in 
right  miner's  fashion,  the  drills  in  a  graduated 
stepladder  row  along  the  wall ;  loaded  the  barrow 
with  broken  ore,  a  bit  of  charred  fuse  showing  at 
the  top,  and  wheeled  it  out  at  the  same  unpro- 


148  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

fessional  gait,  leaving  it  on  the  dump  just  above 
the  spot  where  his  late  sepulchral  rites  had  fresh 
ened  the  appearance  of  the  sunbeaten  dump. 

He  next  performed  his  ablutions  in  an  ama^ 
teurish  and  perfunctory  fashion,  scrupulously  ob 
serving  a  well-defined  waterline. 

"  There !  "  said  Mr.  Long.  "  I  near  made  a 
break  that  time!  "  He  went  back  to  the  barrow 
and  trundled  it  assiduously  to  the  tunnel's  mouth 
and  back  several  times,  carefully  never  in  quite 
the  same  place — finally  leaving  it  not  above  the 
sepulchered  spoil,  but  near  the  ore  stack,  as  be 
fitted  its  valuable  contents.  "  I  got  to  think  of 
everything.  One  wrong  break'll  fix  me  good !  " 
said  Mr.  Long.  He  felt  his  neck  delicately,  as  if 
he  detected  some  foreign  presence  there.  "  In 
the  tunnel,  now,  there's  only  the  one  place  where 
the  wheel  can  go;  so  it  don't  matter  so  much  in 
there." 

The  fire  having  now  burned  down  to  proper 
coals,  Mr.  Long  set  about  supper;  with  the  corner 
of  his  eye  on  the  lookout  for  the  pursuers  of  the 
late  Bransford.  He  set  the  coffee-pot  by  the  fire 
— they  were  now  in  the  edge  of  the  tarbrush;  there 
were  only  two  of  them.  He  put  on  a  pot  of 
potatoes  in  their  jackets — he  could  see  them 
plainly,  diminutive  black  horsemen  twinkling 
through  the  brush;  he  sliced  bacon  into  a  frying- 
pan  and  put  it  aside  to  await  his  cue;  he  dis 
posed  other  cooking  ware  in  lifelike  attitudes  near 


THE  NETTLE,  DANGER          149 

the  fire — they  were  in  the  long  shadow  of  Double 
Mountain;  their  horses  were  jaded;  they  rode 
slowly.  He  dropped  the  sour-dough  jar  and 
placed  the  broken  pieces  where  they  would  be 
inconspicuously  visible.  Having  thus  a  perfectly 
obvious  excuse  for  not  having  sour-dough  bread, 
which  requires  thirty-six  hours  of  running  start 
for  preliminary  rising,  Jeff — Mr.  Tobe  Long — 
mixed  up  a  just-as-good  baking-powder  substitute 
— they  rode  like  young  men ;  they  rode  like  young 
men  not  to  the  saddle  born,  and  Tobe  permitted 
himself  a  chuckle :  "  By  hooky,  I've  got  an  even 
chance  for  my  little  bluff !  " 

He  shook  his  head  reprovingly  at  himself  for- 
this  last  admission.  With  every  minute  he  looked 
more  like  Tobe  Long  than  ever — if  only  there  had 
been  any  Tobe  Long  to  look  like.  His  mind  ran 
upon  nuggets,  pockets,  placers,  faults,  true  fissure 
veins,  the  cyanide  process,  concentrates,  chlorides, 
sulphides,  assays,  leases  and  bonds;  his  face  took 
on  the  strained  wistfulness  which  marks  the  con 
firmed  prospector:  he  was  Tobe  Longl 

The  bell  rang. 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE  SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN 

"Timeo  Danaos  et  dona  ferentes." 

— The  Dictionary. 

"TT O-O-E-EE !     Hello-o !  " 

j_  X  As  the  curtain  rose  to  the  flying  echoes 
Long  stepped  to  the  edge  of  the  dump,  frying-pan 
in  hand,  and  sent  back  an  answering  shout  in  the 
startled  high  note  of  a  lonely  man  taken  un 
awares. 

"  Hello-o !  "  He  brandished  his  hospitable 
pan.  Then  he  put  it  down,  cupped  hands  to  mouth 
and  trumpeted  a  hearty  welcome:  "Chuck! 
Come  up !  Supper's  ready !  " 

"  Can't !  See  any  one  go  by  about  two  hours 
ago?" 

"Hey?     Louder!" 

"  See  a  man  on  a  sorrel  horse?" 

"  No-o !     I  been  in  the  tunnel.     Come  up  I  " 

"  Can't.     We're  after  an  outlaw  1 " 

"What?" 

"  After  a  murderer  1 " 

"  Wait  a  minute  1  I'll  be  down.  Too  hard  to 
yell  so  far." 

150 


Mr.  Long  started  precipitately  down  the  zig 
zag;  but  the  riders  had  got  all  the  information 
of  interest  that  Mr.  Long  could  furnish  and  they 
were  eager  to  be  in  at  the  death. 

"  Can't  wait  I  He's  inside  the  mountain,  some- 
wheres.  Some  of  the  boys  are  waiting  for  him 
at  the  other  end."  They  rode  on. 

Mr.  Long  posed  for  a  statue  of  Disappoint 
ment,  hung  on  the  steep  trail  rather  as  if  he  might 
conclude  to  coil  himself  into  a  ball  and  roll  down 
the  hill  to  overtake  them. 

"  Stop  as  you  come  back ! "  he  bellowed. 
"  Want  to  hear  about  it." 

Did  Jeff — Mr.  Long — did  Mr.  Long  now  at 
tempt  to  escape  ?  Not  so.  Gifted  with  prevision 
beyond  most,  Mr.  Long's  mind  misgave  him  that 
these  young  men  would  be  baffled  in  their  pleasing 
expectations.  They  would  be  back  before  sun 
down,  very  cross;  and  a  miner's  brogan  leaves  a 
track  not  to  be  missed. 

That  Mr.  Long  was  unfeignedly  fatigued  from 
the  varied  efforts  of  the  day  need  not  be  men 
tioned,  for  that  alone  would  not  have  stayed  his 
flight;  but  the  nearest  water,  save  Escondido, 
was  thirty-five  miles;  and  at  Escondido  he  would 
be  watched  for — not  to  say  that,  when  he  was 
missed,  some  of  the  searching  party  would 
straightway  go  to  Escondido  to  frustrate  him. 
Present  escape  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 


152  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

Instead,  Mr.  Long  made  a  hearty  meal  from 
the  simple  viands  that  had  been  in  course  of 
preparation  when  he  was  surprised,  eked  out  by 
canned  corn  fried  in  bacon  grease  to  a  crisp, 
golden  brown.  Then,  after  a  cigarette,  he  betook 
himself  to  sharpening  tools  with  laudable  indus 
try.  The  tools  were  already  sharp,  but  that  did 
not  stop  Mr.  Long.  He  built  a  fire  in  the  forge, 
set  up  a  stepladder  of  matched  drills  in  the  black 
ened  water  of  the  tempering  tub ;  he  thrust  a  gad 
and  one  short  drill  into  the  fire.  When  the  gad 
Was  at  a  good  cherry  heat  he  thrust  it  hissing  into 
the  tub  to  bring  the  water  to  a  convincing  tem 
perature;  and  when  reheated  he  did  it  again. 
From  time  to  time  he  held  the  one  drill  to  the 
anvil  and  shaped  it,  drawing  it  alternately  to  a 
chisel  bit  or  a  bull  bit.  Mr.  Long  could  sharpen 
a  drill  with  any,  having  been,  in  very  truth,  a 
miner  of  sorts — he  could  toy  thus  with  one  drill 
without  giving  it  any  very  careful  attention,  and 
his  thoughts  were  now  busy  on  how  best  to  be 
Mr.  Long. 

Accordingly  from  time  to  time  he  added  an 
artistic  touch  to  Mr.  Long — grime  under  his  fin 
gernails,  a  smudge  of  smut  on  an  eyebrow.  His 
hands  displeased  him.  After  some  experiment 
ing  to  get  the  proper  heat  of  it  he  grasped  the 
partially  cooled  gad  with  the  drill-pincers  and 
held  it  very  lightly  to  a  favored  few  of  those  por 
tions  of  the  hand  known  to  chiromaniacs  as  the 


SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN  153 

mounts  of  Jupiter,  Saturn  and  other  extinct  im 
mortals. 

Satisfactory  blisters-while-you-wait  were  thus 
obtained.  These  were  pricked  with  a  pin;  some 
were  torn  to  tatters,  with  dust  and  coal  rubbed 
in  to  give  them  a  venerable  appearance.  The 
pain  was  no  light  matter;  but  Mr.  Long  had  a 
real  affection  for  Mr.  Bransford's  neck,  and  it  is 
trifles  like  these  that  make  perfection. 

The  next  expedient  was  even  more  heroic.  Mr. 
Long  assiduously  put  stone-dust  in  one  eye,  leav 
ing  it  tearful,  bloodshot  and  violently  inflamed; 
and  the  other  one  was  sympathetically  red.  "  Bit 
o'  steel  in  my  eye,"  explained  Mr.  Long.  Un 
selfish  devotion  such  as  this  is  all  too  rare. 

All  this  while,  at  proper  intervals,  Mr.  Long 
sharpened  and  resharpened  that  one  long-suffering 
drill.  He  tripped  into  the  tunnel  and  smote  a 
mighty  blow  upon  the  country  rock  with  a  pick— » 
therefore  qualifying  that  pick  for  repointing— - 
and  laid  it  on  the  forge  as  next  on  the  list. 

What  further  outrage  he  meditated  is  not 
known,  for  he  now  heard  a  horse  coming  up  the 
trail.  He  was  beating  out  a  merry  tattoo  when 
a  white-hatted  head  rose  through  a  trapdoor — • 
rose  above  the  level  of  the  dump,  rather. 

Hammer  in  hand,  Long  straightened  up  joy 
fully  as  best  he  could,  but  could  not  straighten 
up  the  telltale  droop  of  his  shoulders.  It  was 
not  altogether  assumed,  either,  this  hump.  Jeff— 


154  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

Mr.  Long — had  not  done  so  much  work  of  this 
sort  for  years  and  there  was  a  very  real  pain  be 
tween  his  shoulderblades.  Still,  but  for  the  exi 
gencies  of  art,  he  might  have  borne  his  neck  less 
turtlewise  than  he  did. 

"  Hello !    Get  him?    Where's  your  pardner?  " 

"  Watching  the  gap."  The  young  man,  rather 
breathless  from  the  climb,  answered  the  last  ques 
tion  first  as  he  led  his  horse  on  the  dump.  "  No, 
we  didn't  get  him;  but  he  can't  get  away.  Hiding 
somewhere  in  the  Basin  afoot.  Found  his  horse. 
Pretty  well  done  up."  The  insolence  of  the  out 
law's  letter  smote  him  afresh;  he  reddened.  "  No 
tracks  going  out  of  the  Basin.  Two  of  our 
friends  guarding  the  other  end.  They  say  he 
can't  get  out  over  the  cliffs  anywhere.  That  so?  " 
The  speech  came  jerkily;  he  was  still  short  of 
breath  from  his  scramble. 

"  Not  without  a  flying  machine,"  said  Long. 
"  No  way  out  that  I  know  of,  except  where  the 
wagonroad  goes.  What's  he  done?  " 

"  Robbery!  Murder!  We'll  see  that  he  don't 
get  out  by  the  wagonroad,"  asserted  the  youth 
confidently.  "  Watch  the  gaps  and  starve  him 
out!" 

"  Oh,  speaking  of  starving,"  said  Tobe,  "  go 
into  the  tent  and  I'll  bring  you  some  supper  while 
you  tell  me  about  it.  Baked  up  another  batch 
of  bread  on  the  chance  you'd  come  back." 

"  Why,  thank  you  very  much,  Mr. " 


SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN  155 

"  Long — Tobe  Long." 

"  Mr.  Long.  My  name  is  Gurdon  Steele. 
Glad  to  meet  you.  Why,  if  you  will  be  so  kind — 
that  is  what  I  came  up  to  see  you  about.  If  you 
can  let  us  have  what  we  need  of  course  we  will 
pay  you  for  it." 

"Of  course  you  won't!  "  It  had  not  needed 
the  offer  to  place  Mr.  Gurdon  Steele  quite  accu 
rately.  He  was  a  handsome  lad,  fresh-complex- 
ioned,  dressed  in  the  Western  manner  as  prac 
tised  on  the  Boardwalk.  "  You're  welcome  to 
what  I  got,  sure;  but  I  ain't  got  much  variety. 
Gwin,  the  old  liar,  said  he  was  coming  out  the 
twentieth — and  sure  enough  he  didn't;  so  the 
grub's  running  low.  Table  in  the  tent — come 
on!" 

"  Oh,  no,  I  couldn't,  you  know !  Rex — that's 
my  partner — is  quite  as  hungry  as  I  am,  you  see; 
but  if  you  could  give  me  something — anything 
you  have — to  take  down  there?  I  really  couldn't, 
you  know!  "  The  admirable  doctrine  of  noblesse 
oblige  in  its  delicate  application  by  this  politeness, 
was  easier  for  its  practitioner  than  to  put  it  into 
words  suited  to  the  comprehension  of  his  hearer; 
he  concluded  lamely:  "  I'll  take  it  down  there  and 
we  will  eat  it  together." 

"  See  here,"  said  Tobe,  "  I'm  as  hungry  to  hear 
about  your  outlaw  as  you  are  to  eat.  I'll  just 
throw  my  bedding  and  a  lot  of  chuck  on  your 
saddle.  We'll  carry  the  coffee-pot  and  frying-pan 


156  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

in  our  hands — and  the  sugar-can  and  things  like 
that.  You  can  tank  up  and  give  me  the  news  in 
small  chunks  at  the  same  time.  Afterward  two 
of  us  can  sleep  while  one  stands  guard." 

This  was  done.  It  was  growing  dark  when 
they  reached  the  bottom  of  the  hill.  The  third 
guardsman  had  built  a  fire. 

"  Rex,  this  is  Mr.  Long,  who  has  been  kind 
enough  to  grubstake  us  and  share  our  watch  with 
us." 

Mr.  Steele,  you  have  observed,  had  accepted 
Mr.  Long  without  question;  but  his  first  impres 
sion  of  Mr.  Long  had  been  gained  under  circum 
stances  highly  favorable  to  the  designs  of  the 
latter  gentleman.  Mr.  Steele  had  come  upon  him 
unexpectedly,  finding  him  as  it  were  in  medias  res, 
with  all  his  skillfully  arranged  scenery  to  aid  the 
illusion.  The  case  was  now  otherwise — the  thou- 
sand-tongued  vouching  of  his  background  lacked 
to  him:  Mr.  Long  had  naught  save  his  own  un 
thinkable  audacity  to  belie  his  face  withal.  From 
the  first  instant  Mr.  Rex  Griffith  was  the  prey  of 
suspicions — acute,  bigoted,  churlish,  deep,  dark, 
distrustful,  damnable,  and  so  on  down  to  zealous. 
He  had  a  sharp  eye;  he  wore  no  puttees;  and 
Mr.  Long  had  a  vaguely  uncomfortable  memory, 
holding  over  from  some  previous  incarnation,  of 
having  seen  that  long,  shrewd  face  in  a  court 
room. 

host,  on  hospitable  rites  intent,  likewise 


SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN  157 

all  ears  and  eager  questionings,  was  all  uncon 
scious  of  hostile  surveillance.  Nothing  could  be 
more  carefree,  more  at  ease  than  his  bearing;  his 
pleasant  anticipatory  excitement  was  the  natural 
outlook  for  a  lonely  and  newsless  man.  As  the 
hart  panteth  for  the  water,  so  he  thirsted  for 
the  story;  but  his  impatient,  hasty  questions, 
following  false  scents,  delayed  the  telling  of  the 
Arcadian  tale.  So  innocent  was  he,  so  open  and 
aboveboard,  that  Griffith,  watching,  alert,  felt 
thoroughly  ashamed  of  himself.  Yet  he  watched, 
doubting  still,  though  his  reason  rebelled  at  the 
monstrous  imaginings  of  his  heart.  That  the 
outlaw,  unarmed  and  unasked,  should  venture — 
Pshaw!  Such  effrontery  was  inconceivable.  He 
allowed  Steele  to  tell  the  story,  himself  contribut 
ing  only  an  occasional  crafty  question  designed  to 
enable  his  host  to  betray  himself. 

"  Bransford?  "  interrupted  Mr.  Long.  "  Not 
Jeff  Bransford — up  South  Rainbow  way?  " 

"  That's  the  man,"  said  Steele. 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Long  flatly.  He  was 
sipping  coffee  with  his  guests;  he  put  his  cup 
down.  "  I  know  him,  a  little.  He  don't " 

"Oh,  there's  no  doubt  of  it!"  interrupted 
Steele  in  his  turn.  He  detailed  the  circumstances 
with  skilful  care.  "  Besides,  why  did  he  run 
away?  Gee!  You  ought  to  have  seen  that  es 
cape!  It  was  splendid!  " 

"Well,   now,   who'd  'a'  thought  that?"  de» 


158  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

manded  Long,  still  only  half  convinced.  "  He 
didn't  strike  me  like  that  kind  of  a  man.  Well, 
you  never  can  tell!  How  come  you  fellows  to 
be  chasin'  him?  " 

"  You  see,"  said  Steele,  "  every  one  was  sure 
he  had  gone  up  to  Rainbow.  The  sheriff  and 
posse  is  up  there  now,  looking  for  him;  but  we 
four — Stone  and  Harlow,  the  chaps  at  the  other 
end,  were  with  us,  you  know — we  were  up  in  the 
foothills  on  a  deerhunt.  We  were  out  early — 
sun-up  is  the  best  time  for  deer,  they  tell  me — 
and  we  had  a  spyglass.  Well,  we  just  happened 
to  see  a  man  ride  out  from  between  two  hills, 
quite  a  way  off.  Stone  noticed  right  away  that 
he  was  riding  a  sorrel  horse.  It  was  a  sorrel 
horse  that  Bransford  stole,  you  know.  We  didn't 
suspect,  though,  who  it  was  till  a  bit  later.  Then 
Rex  tried  to  pick  him  up  again  and  saw  that  he 
was  going  out  of  his  way  to  avoid  the  ridges — 
keeping  cover,  you  know.  Then  we  caught  on 
and  took  after  him  pell-mell.  He  had  a  big 
start;  but  he  was  riding  slowly  so  as  not  to  make 
a  dust — that  is,  till  he  saw  our  dust.  DChen  he 
lit  out." 

"  You're  not  deputies,  then?  "  said  Long. 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all !  "  said  Steele,  secretly  flat 
tered.  "  So  Harlow  and  Stone  galloped  off  to 
town.  The  program  was  that  they'd  wire  down 
to  Escondido  to  have  horses  ready  for  them, 
come  down  on  Number  Six  and  head  him  off. 


SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN  159 

They  were  not  to  tell  any  one  in  Arcadia.  There's 
five  thousand  dollars'  reward  out  for  him — but  it 
isn't  that  exactly.  It  was  a  cowardly,  beastly  mur 
der,  don't  you  know;  and  we  thought  it  would 
be  rather  a  big  thing  if  we  could  take  him 
alone." 

"  You  got  him  penned  all  right,"  said  Tobe. 
"  He  can't  get  out,  so  far  as  I  know,  unless  he 
runs  over  us  or  the  men  at  the  other  end.  By 
George,  we  must  get  away  from  this  fire,  too !  " 
He  set  the  example,  dragging  the  bedding  with 
him  to  the  shelter  of  a  big  rock.  "  He  could  pick 
us  off  too  slick  here  in  the  light.  How're  you 
going  to  get  him?  There's  a  heap  of  country  in 
that  Basin,  all  rough  and  broken,  full  o'  boulders 
— mighty  good  cover." 

"  Starve  him  out !  "  said  Griffith.  This  was 
base  deceit.  Deep  in  his  heart  he  believed  that 
the  quarry  sat  beside  him,  well  fed  and  contented. 
Yet  the  unthinkable  insolence  of  it — if  this  were 
indeed  Bransford — dulled  his  belief. 

Long  laughed  as  he  spread  down  the  bed. 
"He'll  shoot  a  deer.  Maybe,  if  he  had  it  all 
planned  out,  he  may  have  grub  cached  in  there 
somewhere.  There's  watertanks  in  the  rocks. 
Say,  what  are  your  pardners  at  the  other  side 
going  to  do  for  grub?  " 

"  Oh,  they  brought  out  cheese  and  crackers  and 
stuff,"  said  Gurd. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  boys,  you've  bit  off  more 


160  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

than  you  can  chaw,"  said  Jeff — Tobe,  that  is. 
"  He  can't  get  out  without  a  fight — but,  then,  you 
can't  go  in  there  to  hunt  for  him  without  weaken 
ing  your  guard;  and  he'd  be  under  shelter  and 
have  all  the  best  of  it.  He'd  shoot  you  so  dead 
, you'd  never  know  what  happened.  I  don't  want 
none  of  it!  I'd  as  lief  put  on  boxing  gloves  and 
crawl  into  a  hole  after  a  bear!  Look  here,  now, 
this  is  your  show;  but  I'm  a  heap  older'n  you 
boys.  Want  to  know  what  I  think?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Rex. 

"  Coin'  to  talk  turkey  to  me?  "  An  avaricious 
light  came  into  Long's  eyes. 

"Of  course;  you're  in  on  the  reward,"  said 
Rex  diffidently  and  rather  stiffly.  "  We  are  not  in 
this  for  the  money." 

"  I  can  use  the  money — whatever  share  you 
want  to  give  me,"  said  Long  dryly;  "  but  if  you 
take  my  advice  my  share  won't  be  but  a  little.  I 
think  you  ought  to  keep  under  shelter  at  the  mouth 
of  this  canon — one  of  you — and  let  the  other  one 
go  to  Escondido  and  send  for  help,  quick,  and  a 
lot  of  it." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  going?  "  asked 
Griffith  disingenuously.  He  wanted  Long  to 
show  his  hand.  It  would  never  do  to  abandon 
the  siege  of  Double  Mountain  to  arrest  this  soi- 
disant  Long  on  mere  suspicion.  On  the  other 
hand,  Mr.  Rex  Griffith  had  no  idea  of  letting 
Long  escape  his  clutches  until  his  identity  was 


SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN  161 

established,  one  way  or  the  other,  beyond  all 
question. 

That  was  why  Long  declined  the  offer.  His 
honest  gaze  shifted.  "  I  ain't  much  of  a  rider," 
he  said  evasively.  Young  Griffith  read  correctly 
the  thought  which  the  excuse  concealed.  Evi 
dently  Long  considered  himself  an  elder  soldier, 
if  not  a  better,  than  either  of  his  two  young 
guests,  but  wished  to  spare  their  feelings  by  not 
letting  them  find  it  out.  Griffith  found  this  plain 
solution  inconsistent  with  his  homicidal  theory: 
a  murderer,  fleeing  for  his  life,  would  have 
jumped  at  the  chance. 

There  are  two  sides  to  every  question.  Let  us, 
this  once,  prove  both  sides.  Wholly  oblivious  to 
Griffith's  lynx-eyed  watchfulness  and  his  leading 
questions,  Mr.  Long  yet  recognized  the  futility 
of  an  attempt  to  ride  away  on  Mr.  Griffith's 
horse  with  Mr.  Griffith's  benison.  There  we  have 
the  other  point  of  view. 

"  We'll  have  to  send  for  grub  anyway,"  pursued 
the  sagacious  Mr.  Long.  "  I've  only  got  a  little 
left;  and  that  old  liar,  Gwin,  won't  be  out  for 
four  days — if  he  comes  then.  And — er — look 
here  now — if  I  was  you  boys  I'd  let  the  sheriff 
and  his  posse  smoke  your  badger  out.  [They  get 
paid  to  tend  to  that — and  it  looks  to  me  like 
some  one  was  going  to  get  hurt.  You've  done 
enough." 

All  this  advice  was  so  palpably  sound  that  the 


1 62  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

doubter  was,  for  the  second,  staggered — for  a 
second  only.  This  was  the  man  he  had  seen  in 
the  prisoner's  dock.  He  was  morally  sure  of  it. 
For  all  the  difference  of  appearance,  this  was  the 
man.  Yet  those  blasts — the  far-seen  fire — the 
hearty  welcome — this  delivery  of  himself  into  their 
hands?  .  .  .  Griffith  scarcely  knew  what  he  did 
think.  He  blamed  himself  for  his  unworthy  sus 
picions;  he  blamed  Gurdy  more  for  having  no 
suspicions  at  all. 

"Anything  else?"  he  said.  "That  sounds 
good." 

Tobe  studied  for  some  time. 

"  Well,"  he  said  at  last,  "  there  may  be  some 
way  he  can  get  out.  I  don't  think  he  can — but 
he  might  find  a  way.  He  knows  he's  trapped;  but 
likely  he  has  no  idea  yet  how  many  of  us  there 
are.  So  we  know  he'll  try,  and  he  won't  be  just 
climbing  for  fun.  He'll  take  a  chance." 

Steele  broke  in : 

"  He  didn't  leave  any  rope  on  his  saddle." 

Tobe  nodded. 

"  So  he  means  to  try  it.  Now  here's  five  of 
us  here.  It  seems  to  me  that  some  one  ought  to 
ride  round  the  mountain  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning,  and  every  day  afterward — only  here's 
hoping  there  won't  be  many  of  'em — to  look  for 
tracks.  There  isn't  one  chance  in  a  hundred  he 
can  climb  out;  but  if  he  goes  out  of  here  afoot 
we've  got  him  sure.  [The  man  on  guard  wants  to 


SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN  163 

keep  in  shelter.  It's  light  to-night — there's  no 
chance  for  him  to  slip  out  without  being  seen. 
You  say  the  old  watchman  ain't  dead  yet,  Mr. 
Griffith?" 

"  No.  The  latest  bulletin  was  that  he  was  al 
most  holding  his  own." 

"  Hope  he  gets  well,"  said  Long.  "  Good  old 
geezer!  Now,  cap,  I've  worked  hard  and  you've 
ridden  hard.  Better  set  your  guards  and  let  the 
other  two  take  a  little  snooze." 

Griffith  was  not  proof  against  the  insidious  flat 
tery  of  this  unhesitant  preference.  He  flushed 
with  embarrassment  and  pleasure. 

"  Well,  if  I'm  to  be  captain,  Gurd  will  take  the 
first  guard — till  eleven.  Then  you  come  on  till 
two,  Mr.  Long.  I'll  stand  from  then  on  till  day- 
light." 

In  five  minutes  Mr.  Long  was  enjoying  the  calm 
and  restful  sleep  of  fatigued  innocence;  but  his 
poor  captain  was  doomed  to  have  a  bad  night 
of  it,  with  two  Bransfords  on  his  hands — one  in 
the  Basin  and  one  in  the  bed  beside  him.  His 
head  was  dizzy  with  the  vicious  circle.  Like  the 
gentlewoman  of  the  nursery  rhyme,  he  was 
tempted  to  cry:  "  Lawk  'a'  mercy  on  me,  this  is 
none  of  I!  " 

If  he  haled  his  bedmate  to  justice  and  the  real 
Bransford  got  away — that  would  be  a  nice  pre 
dicament  for  an  ambitious  young  man!  He  was 
sensitive  to  ridicule,  and  he  saw  here  such  an 


1 64  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

opportunity  to  earn  it  as  knocks  but  once  at  any 
man's  door. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  while  he  held  Bransford 
cooped  tightly  in  the  Basin,  this  thrice-accursed 
Long  should  escape  him  and  there  should  be  no 

Bransford  in  the  Basin What  nonsense! 

What  utter  twaddle!  Bransford  was  in  the 
Basin.  He  had  found  his  horse  and  saddle,  his 
tracks;  no  tracks  had  come  out  of  the  Basin.  Im 
mediately  on  the  discovery  of  the  outlaw's  horse, 
Gurd  had  ridden  back  posthaste  and  held  the 
pass  while  he,  the  captain,  had  gone  to  the  mouth 
of  the  southern  canon  and  posted  his  friends.  He 
had  watched  for  tracks  of  a  footman  every  step 
of  the  way,  going  and  coming;  there  had  been 
no  tracks.  Bransford  was  in  the  Basin.  He 
watched  the  face  of  the  sleeping  man.  But,  by 
Heaven,  this  was  Bransford ! 

Was  ever  a  poor  captain  in  such  a  predica 
ment?  A  moment  before  he  had  fully  and  defi 
nitely  decided  once  for  all  that  this  man  was  not 
Bransford,  could  not  be  Bransford;  that  it  was 
not  possible !  His  reason  unwaveringly  told  him 
one  thing,  his  eyesight  the  other!  .  .  .  Yet 
Bransford,  or  an  unfortunate  twin  of  his,  lay 
now  beside  him — and,  for  further  mockery,  slept 
peacefully,  serene,  untroubled.  .  .  .  He  looked 
upon  the  elusive  Mr.  Long  with  a  species  of 
horror!  The  face  was  drawn  and  lined.  Yet, 
but  forty-eight  hours  of  tension  would  have  left 


SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN  165 

Bransford's  face  not  otherwise.  He  had  noticed 
Bransford's  hands  in  the  courtroom — noticed 
their  well-kept  whiteness,  due,  as  he  had  decided, 
to  the  perennial  cowboy  glove.  This  man's  hands, 
as  he  had  seen  by  the  campfire,  were  blistered  and 
calloused !  Callouses  were  not  made  in  a  day.  He 
took  another  look  at  Long.  Oh,  thunder! 

He  crept  from  bed.  He  whispered  a  word  to 
sentry  Steele;  not  to  outline  the  distressing  state 
of  his  own  mind,  but  merely  to  request  Steele 
not  to  shoot  him,  as  he  was  going  up  to  the 
mine. 

He  climbed  up  the  trail,  chewing  the  unpalata 
ble  thought  that  Gurdon  had  seen  nothing  amiss 
— yet  Gurd  had  been  at  the  trial!  The  captain 
began  to  wish  he  had  never  gone  on  that  deer- 
hunt. 

He  went  into  the  tent,  struck  a  match,  lit  a 
candle  and  examined  everything  closely.  There 
was  no  gun  in  the  camp  and  no  cartridges.  He 
found  the  spill  of  twisted  paper  under  the  table, 
smothered  his  qualms  and  read  it.  He  noted  the 
open  book  for  future  examination  in  English. 
And  now  Tobe's  labors  had  their  late  reward,  for 
Rex  missed  nothing.  Every  effort  brought  fresh 
disappointment  and  every  disappointment  spurred 
him  to  fresh  effort.  He  went  into  the  tunnel; 
he  scrutinized  everything,  even  to  the  drills  in 
the  tub.  The  food  supply  tallied  with  Long's 


1 66  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

account.  No  detail  escaped  him  and  every  detail 
confirmed  the  growing  belief  that  he,  Captain 
Griffith,  was  a  doddering  imbecile. 

He  returned  to  the  outpost,  convinced  at  last. 
Nevertheless,  merely  to  quiet  the  ravings  of  his 
insubordinate  instincts,  now  in  open  revolt,  he 
restaked  the  horses  nearer  to  camp  and  cautiously 
carried  both  saddles  to  the  head  of  the  bed.  Con 
cession  merely  encouraged  the  rebels  to  further 
and  successful  outrages — the  government  was 
overthrown. 

He  drew  sentry  Steele  aside  and  imparted  his 
doubts.  That  faithful  follower  heaped  scorn, 
mockery,  laughter  and  abuse  upon  his  shrinking 
superior:  recounted  all  the  points,  from  the  first 
blasts  of  dynamite  to  the  present  moment,  which 
favored  the  charitable  belief  above  mentioned  as 
newly  entertained  by  Captain  Griffith  concerning 
himself.  This  belief  of  Captain  Griffith  was 
amply  indorsed  by  his  subordinate  in  terms  of 
point  and  versatility. 

"  Of  course  they  look  alike.  I  noticed  that 
the  minute  I  saw  him — the  same  amount  of  legs 
and  arms,  features  all  in  the  fore  part  of  his  head, 
hair  on  top,  one  body — wonderful!  Why,  you 
pitiful  ass,  that  Bransford  person  was  a  mighty 
keen-looking  man  in  any  company.  This  fellow's 
a  yokel — an  old,  rusty,  cap-and-ball,  single-shot 
muzzle-loader.  The  Bransford  was  an  automatic, 
steel-frame,  high  velocity " 


SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN 

"  The  better  head  he  has  the  more  apt  he  is  to 
do  the  unexpected " 

"  Aw,  shut  up !  You've  got  incipient  paresis ! 
Stuff  your  ears  in  your  mouth  and  go  to  sleep !  " 

The  captain  sought  his  couch  convinced,  but 
holding  his  first  opinion,  savagely  minded  to  ar 
rest  Mr.  Long  rather  than  let  him  have  a  gun 
to  stand  guard  with.  He  was  spared  the  decision. 
Mr.  Long  declined  Gurdon's  proffered  gun,  say 
ing  that  he  would  be  right  there  and  he  was  a 
poor  shot  anyway. 

Gurdon  slept;  Long  took  his  place — and  Cap 
tain  Rex,  from  the  bed,  watched  the  watcher. 
Never  was  there  a  more  faithful  sentinel  than 
Mr.  Long.  Without  relaxing  his  vigilance  even 
to  smoke,  he  strained  every  faculty  lest  the  wily 
Bransford  should  creep  out  through  the  shadows. 
The  captain  saw  him,  a  stooped  figure,  sitting  mo 
tionless  by  his  rock,  always  alert,  peering  this  way 
and  that,  turning  his  head  to  listen.  Once  Tobe 
saw  something.  He  crept  noiselessly  to  the  bed 
and  shook  his  chief.  Griffith  came,  with  his  gun. 
Something  was  stirring  in  the  bushes.  After  a 
little  it  moved  out  of  the  shadows.  It  was  a 
prowling  coyote.  The  captain  went  back  to  bed 
once  more  convinced  of  Long's  fidelity,  but  re* 
solved  to  keep  a  relentless  eye  on  him  just  the 
same.  And  all  unawares,  as  he  revolved  the  day's 
events  in  his  mind,  the  captain  dropped  off  to 
troubled  sleep. 


1 68  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

Mr.  Long  woke  him  at  three.  There  had  been 
a  temptation  to  ride  away,  but  the  saddles  were 
at  the  head  of  the  bed,  the  ground  was  stony;  he 
would  be  heard.  He  might  have  made  an  attempt 
to  get  both  guns  from  under  the  pillow,  but  de 
tection  meant  ruin  for  him,  since  to  shoot  these 
boys  or  to  hurt  them  was  out  of  the  question, 
Escape  by  violence  would  have  been  easy  and 
assured.  Jeff  preferred  to  trust  his  wits.  He  was 
enjoying  himself  very  much. 

When  the  captain  got  his  relentless  eyes  open 
and  realized  what  had  chanced  he  saw  that  fur 
ther  doubt  was  unworthy.  Half  an  hour  later 
the  unworthy  captain  stole  noiselessly  to  Long's 
bedside  and  saw,  to  his  utter  rage  and  distraction, 
that  Mr.  Bransford  was  there  again.  It  was  al 
most  too  much  to  bear.  He  felt  that  he  should 
always  hate  Long,  even  after  Bransford  was 
safely  hanged.  Bransford's  head  had  slipped 
from  Long's  pillow.  Hating  himself,  Griffith 
subtly  withdrew  the  miner's  folded  overalls  and 
went  through  the  pockets. 

He  found  there  a  knife  smelling  of  dynamite, 
matches,  a  turquoise  carved  to  what  was  plainly 
meant  to  be  the  form  of  a  bad-tempered  horse, 
and  two  small  specimens  of  ore ! 

Altogether,  the  captain  passed  a  wild  and  whirl 
ing  night. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN 

(Continued) 

"If   the   bowl   had   been    stronger 
My  tale  had  been  longer." 

— Mother  Goose. 

WHEN  the  sun  peeped  over  Rainbow 
Range,  Captain  Griffith  bent  over  Tobe 
Long's  bed.  His  eyes  were  aching,  burned  and 
sunken;  the  lids  twitched;  his  face  was  haggard 
and  drawn — but  he  had  arrived  at  an  unalterable 
decision.  This  thing  could  not  and  should  not  go 
on.  His  brain  reeled  now — another  such  night 
would  entitle  him  to  state  protection. 

He  shook  Mr.  Long  roughly. 

"  See  here !  I  believe  you're  Bransford  him 
self!" 

Thus  taken  off  his  guard,  Long  threw  back  the 
bedding,  rose  to  one  elbow,  still  half  asleep,  and 
reached  for  his  shoes,  laughing  and  yawning  al 
ternately.  Then,  as  he  woke  up  a  little  more, 
he  saw  a  better  way  to  dress,  dropped  the  shoes 
and  unfurled  his  pillow — which,  by  day,  he  wore 
as  overalls.  Fumbling  behind  him,  where  the 

169 


1 70  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

pillow  had  lain,  he  found  a  much-soiled  handker 
chief  and  tenderly  dabbed  at  his  swollen  eye. 

"  Bit  of  steel  in  my  eye  from  a  drill-head,"  he 
explained.  "  Jiminy,  but  it's  sore !  " 

Plainly  he  took  the  accusation  as  a  pleasantry 
calling  for  no  answer. 

"  I  mean  it !  I'm  going  to  keep  you  under 
guard !  "  said  Captain  Griffith  bitingly. 

Poor,  sleepy  Tobe,  halfway  into  his  overalls, 
stared  up  at  Mr.  Griffith;  his  mouth  dropped  open 
— he  was  quite  at  a  loss  for  words.  The  captain 
glared  back  at  him.  Tobe  kicked  the  overalls  off 
and  cuddled  back  into  bed. 

"  Bully!  "  he  said.  "  Then  I  won't  have  to  get 
breakfast!  " 

Gurdon  Steele  sat  up  in  bed,  a  happy  man.  His 
eye  gave  Mr.  Long  a  discreetly  confidential  look, 
as  of  one  who  restrains  himself,  out  of  instinctive 
politeness,  from  a  sympathetic  and  meaningful  tap 
of  one's  forehead.  A  new  thought  struck  Mr. 
Long.  He  reached  over  behind  Steele  for  the 
rifle  at  the  bed's  edge  and  thrust  it  into  the  lat- 
ter's  hands. 

"  Here,  Boy  Scout !  Watch  me !  "  he  whis 
pered.  "  Don't  let  me  escape  while  I  sleep  a  few 
lines!  I'm  Bransford!  " 

Gurdie  rubbed  his  eyes  and  giggled. 

"  Don't  you  mind  Rex.  That's  the  worst  of 
this  pipe  habit.  iYou  never  can  tell  how  they'll 
break  out  next" 


SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN  171 

"Yes,  laugh,  you  blind  bat!"  said  Rex  bit 
terly.  "  I've  got  him  all  the  same,  and  I'm  going 
to  keep  him  while  you  go  to  Escondido !  "  His 
rifle  was  tucked  under  his  arm;  he  patted  the 
barrel  significantly. 

It  slowly  dawned  upon  Mr.  Long  that  Captain 
Griffith  was  not  joking,  after  all,  and  an  angry 
man  was  he.  He  sat  up  in  bed. 

"Oh,  piffle!  Oh,  fudge!  Oh,  pickled  moon 
shine!  If  I'm  Bransford  what  the  deuce  am  I 
doing  here?  Why,  you  was  both  asleep !  I  could 
'a'  shot  your  silly  heads  off  and  you'd  V  never 
woke  up.  You  make  me  tired  I  " 

"  Don't  mind  him,  Long.  He'll  feel  better 
when  he  takes  a  nap,"  said  Gurd  joyfully.  "  He 
has  poor  spells  like  this  and  he  misses  his  nurse. 
We  always  make  allowances  for  him." 

Mr.  Long's  indignation  at  last  overcame  his 
politeness,  and  in  his  wrath  he  attacked  friend  and 
foe  indiscriminately. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  two  puling  in 
fants  are  out  hunting  down  a  man  you  never 
saw?  Don't  the  men  at  the  other  side  know  him 
either?  By  jinks,  you  hike  out  o'  this  after  break 
fast  and  send  for  some  grown-up  men.  I  want 
part  of  that  reward — and  I'm  going  to  have  it! 
Look  here ! "  He  turned  blackly  to  Gurdon. 
"  Are  you  sure  that  Bransford,  or  any  one  else, 
came  in  here  at  all  yesterday,  or  did  you  dream 
it?  Or  was  it  all  a  damfool  kid  joke?  Listen 


BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

here!  I  worked  like  a  dog  yesterday.  If  you 
had  me  stand  guard  three  hours,  tired  as  I  was,  for 
nothing,  there's  going  to  be  more  to  it.  What 
kind  of  a  sack-and-snipe  trick  is  this,  anyway? 
You  just  come  one  at  a  time  and  I'll  lick  the 
stuffin'  out  o'  both  o'  you  1  I  ain't  f  eelin'  like  any 
schoolboy  pranks  just  now." 

"  No,  no;  that  part's  all  straight.  Bransford's 
in  there,  all  right,"  protested  Gurdon.  "  If  you 
hadn't  been  working  in  the  tunnel  you'd  have  seen 
him  when  he  went  by.  Here's  the  note  he  left. 
And  his  horse  and  saddle  are  up  at  the  spring. 
We  left  the  horse  there  because  he  was  lame  and 
about  all  in.  Bransford  can't  get  away  on  him. 
Rex  is  just  excited — that's  all  the  matter  with 
him.  Hankering  for  glory !  I  told  him  last  night 
not  to  make  a  driveling  idiot  of  himself.  Here, 
read  this  insolent  note,  will  you?" 

Long  glowered  at  the  note  and  flung  it  aside. 
"  Anybody  could  'a'  wrote  that !  How  am  I  to 
know  this  thing  ain't  some  more  of  your  funny 
streaks?  You  take  these  horses  to  water  and 
bring  back  Bransford's  horse  and  saddle,  and 
then  I'll  know  what  to  believe.  Be  damn  sure  you 
bring  them,  too,  or  we'll  go  to  producing  glory 
right  here — great  gobs  and  chunks  of  it!  You 
Griffith !  put  down  that  gun  or  I'll  knock  your  fool 
head  off!  I'm  takin*  charge  of  this  outfit  now, 
and  don't  you  forget  it!  And  I  don't  want  no 
maniac  wanderin'  round  me  with  a  gun.  You  go 


SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN  173 

to  gatherin'  up  wood  as  fast  as  ever  God'll  let 
you !  " 

"  Say,  I  was  mistaken,"  said  the  deposed  leader, 
thoroughly  convinced  once  more.  "  You  do  look 
like  Bransford,  you  know."  He  laid  down  his 
rifle  obediently. 

"  Look  like  your  grandmother's  left  hind 
foot !  "  sneered  the  outraged  miner.  "  My  eyes 
is  brown  and  so's  Bransford's.  Outside  o' 
that " 

"  No,  but  you  do,  a  little,"  said  his  ally,  Steele. 
"  I  noticed  it  myself,  last  night.  Not  much — but 
still  there's  a  resemblance.  Poor  Cap  Griffith 
just  let  his  nerves  and  imagination  run  away  with 
him — that's  all." 

Long  sniffed.  "  Funny  I  never  heard  of  it  be 
fore,"  he  said.  He  was  somewhat  mollified,  nev 
ertheless;  and,  while  cooking  breakfast,  he  re 
ceived  very  graciously  a  stammered  and  half 
hearted  apology  from  young  Mr.  Griffith,  now 
reduced  to  the  ranks.  "  Oh,  that's  all  right,  kid. 
But  say — you  be  careful  and  don't  shoot  your 
pardner  when  he  conies  back." 

Gurdon  brought  back  the  sorrel  horse  and  the 
saddle,  thereby  allaying  Mr.  Long's  wrathful  mis 
trust  that  the  whole  affair  was  a  practical  joke. 

'*  I  told  you  butter  wouldn't  suit  the  works !  " 
said  Rex  triumphantly,  and  watched  the  working 
of  his  test  with  a  jealous  eye. 

Long  knew  his  Alice.     "  '  But  it  was  the  best 


i?4  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

butter,'  "  he  said.  He  surveyed  the  sorrel  horse; 
his  eye  brightened.  "  We'll  whack  up  that  blood- 
money  yet,"  he  announced  confidently.  "  Now 
I'm  going  to  walk  over  to  the  south  side  and  get 
one  of  those  fellows  to  ride  sign  round  the  moun 
tain.  You  boys  can  sleep,  turn  and  turn  about, 
till  I  get  back.  Then  I  want  Steele  to  go  to 
Escondido  and  wire  up  to  Arcadia  that  we've  got 
our  bear  by  the  tail  and  want  help  to  turn  him 
loose,  and  tell  Pappy  Sanders  to  send  me  out 
some  grub  or  I'll  skin  him.  Pappy's  putting  up 
for  the  mine,  you  know.  I'll  stay  here  and  keep 
an  eye  on  Griffith."  He  gave  that  luckless  warrior 
a  jeering  look,  as  one  who  has  forgiven  but  not 
forgotten. 

"  Why  don't  you  ride  one  of  our  horses?  "  saic 
Gurdon. 

"  Want  to  keep  'em  fresh.  Then  if  Bransford 
gets  out  over  the  cliffs  you  can  run  him  down 
like  a  mad  dog,"  said  Tobe.  "  Besides,  if  I  ride 
a  fresh  horse  in  here  he'll  maybe  shoot  me  to  get 
the  horse;  and  if  he  could  catch  you  lads  away 
from  shelter  maybe  so  he'd  make  a  dash  for  it, 
a-shootin'.  See  here!  If  I  was  dodgin'  in  here 
like  him — know  what  I'd  do?  I'd  just  shoot  a 
few  lines  on  general  principles  to  draw  you  away 
from  the  gates.  Then  if  you  went  in  to  see  about 
it  I'd  either  kill  you  if  I  had  to,  or  slip  out  if  you 
give  me  the  chance.  You  just  stay  right  here, 
whatever  happens.  Keep  under  shelter  and  keep 


SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN  175 

your  horses  right  by  you.  We  got  him  bottled  up 
and  we  won't  draw  the  cork  till  the  sheriff  comes. 
I'll  tell  'em  to  do  the  same  way  at  the  other  end. 
I  won't  take  any  gun  with  me  and  I'll  stick  to 
the  big  main  road.  That  way  Bransford  won't 
feel  no  call  to  shoot  me.  Likely  he's  'way  up  in 
the  cliffs,  anyhow." 

"  Ride  the  sorrel  horse  then,  why  don't  you? 
He  isn't  lame  enough  to  hurt  much,  but  he's  lame 
enough  that  Bransford  won't  want  him."  Thus 
Mr.  Griffith,  again  dissimulating.  Every  detail 
of  Mr.  Long's  plan  forestalled  suspicion.  That 
these  measures  were  precisely  calculated  to  disarm 
suspicion  now  occurred  to  Griffith's  stubborn  mind. 
For  he  had  a  stubborn  mind;  the  morning's  coffee 
had  cleared  it  of  cobwebs,  and  it  clung  more 
tenaciously  than  ever  to  the  untenable  and  thrice- 
exploded  theory  that  Long  and  Bransford  were 
one  and  inseparable,  now  and  forever.. 

He  meditated  an  ungenerous  scheme  for  vindi 
cation  and,  to  that  end,  wished  Mr.  Long  to  ride 
the  sorrel  horse.  For  Mr.  Long,  if  he  were  in 
deed  the  murderer — as,  of  course,  he  was — would 
indubitably,  upon  some  plausible  pretext,  attempt 
to  pass  the  guards  at  the  farther  end  of  the  trip, 
where  was  no  clear-eyed  Griffith  on  guard.  What 
more  plausible  that  a  modification  of  the  plan 
already  rehearsed — for  Long  to  tell  the  wardens 
that  Griffith  had  sent  him  to  telegraph  to  the 
sheriff  ?  Let  him  once  pass  those  warders  on  any 


BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

pretext !  That  would  be  final  betrayal,  for  all  his 
shrewdness.  There  was  no  possibility  that  Long 
and  Bransford  could  complete  their  escape  on 
that  lame  sorrel.  He  would  not  be  allowed  to  get 
much  of  a  start — just  enough  to  betray  himself. 
Then  he,  Griffith,  would  bring  them  back  in 
triumph. 

It  was  a  good  scheme :  all  things  considered,  it 
reflected  great  credit  upon  Mr.  Griffith's  imagina 
tion.  As  in  Poe's  game  of  "  odd  or  even,"  where 
you  must  outguess  your  opponent  and  follow  his 
thought,  Mr.  Rex  Griffith  had  guessed  correctly 
in  every  respect.  Such,  indeed,  had  been  Mr. 
Long's  plan.  Only  Rex  did  not  guess  quite  often 
enough.  Mr.  Long  had  guessed  just  one  layer 
deeper — namely,  that  Mr.  Griffith  would  follow 
his  thought  correctly  and  also  follow  him.  There 
fore  Mr.  Long  switched  again.  It  was  a  bully 
game — better  than  poker.  Mr.  Long  enjoyed  it 
very  much. 

Just  as  Rex  expected,  Tobe  allowed  himself  to 
be  overpersuaded  and  rode  the  sorrel  horse.  He 
renamed  the  sorrel  horse  Goldie,  on  the  spot, 
saddled  him  awkwardly,  mounted  in  like  manner, 
and  rode  into  the  shadowy  depths  of  Double 
Mountain. 

Once  he  was  out  of  sight  Mr.  Griffith  fol 
lowed,  despite  the  angry  protest  of  Mr.  Steele — 
alleging  falsely  that  he  was  going  to  try  for  a 
deer. 


SIEGE  OF  DOUBLE  MOUNTAIN  177 

,Tobe  rode  slowly  up  the  crooked  and  brush- 
lined  canon.  Behind  him,  cautiously  hidden, 
came  Griffith,  the  hawk-eyed  avenger — waiting  at 
each  bend  until  Mr.  Long  had  passed  the  next 
one,  for  closer  observation  of  how  Mr.  Long 
bore  himself  in  solitude. 

Mr.  Long  bore  himself  most  disappointingly. 
He  rode  slowly  and  awkwardly,  scanning  with 
anxious  care  the  hillsides  before  him.  Not  once 
did  he  look  back  lest  he  should  detect  Mr.  Griffith. 
Near  the  summit  the  Goldie  horse  shied  and 
jumped.  It  was  only  one  little  jump,  whereunto 
Goldie  had  been  privately  instigated  by  Mr. 
Long's  thumb — "  thumbing  "  a  horse,  as  done 
by  one  conversant  with  equine  anatomy,  produces 
surprising  results! — but  it  caught  Mr.  Long  un 
awares  and  tumbled  him  ignominiously  in  the 
dust. 

Mr.  Long  sat  in  the  sand  and  rubbed  his  shoul 
der:  Goldie  turned  and  looked  down  at  him  in 
unqualified  astonishment.  Mr.  Long  then  cursed 
Mr.  Bransford's  sorrel  horse;  he  cursed  Mr. 
Bransford  for  bringing  the  sorrel  horse;  he 
cursed  himself  for  riding  the  sorrel  horse;  he 
cursed  Mr.  Griffith,  with  one  last,  longest,  heart 
felt,  crackling,  hair-raising,  comprehensive  and 
masterly  curse,  for  having  persuaded  him  to  ride 
the  sorrel  horse.  Then  he  tied  the  sorrel  horse 
to  a  bush  and  hobbled  on  afoot,  saying  it  all  over 
backward. 


178  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

Poor  Griffith  experienced  the  most  intense  mor 
tification — except  one — of  his  life.  This  was  con 
clusive.  Bransford  was  reputed  the  best  rider 
in  Rainbow.  This  was  Long.  He  was  convinced, 
positively,  finally  and  irrevocably.  He  did  not 
even  follow  Mr.  Long  to  the  other  side  of  Double 
Mountain,  but  turned  back  to  camp,  keeping  a 
sharp  eye  out  for  traces  of  the  real  Bransford; 
to  no  effect.  It  was  only  by  chance — a  real 
chance — that,  clambering  on  the  gatepost  cliffs  to 
examine  a  curious  whorl  of  gneiss,  he  happened 
to  see  Mr.  Long  as  he  returned.  Mr.  Long  came 
afoot,  leading  the  sorrel  horse.  Just  before  he 
came  within  sight  of  camp  he  led  the  horse  up 
beside  a  boulder,  climbed  clumsily  into  the  saddle, 
clutched  the  saddlehorn,  and  so  rode  into  camp. 
The  act  was  so  natural  a  one  that  Griffith,  already 
convinced,  was  convinced  again — the  more  so  be 
cause  Long  preserved  a  discreet  silence  as  to  the 
misadventure  with  the  sorrel  horse. 

Mr.  Long  reported  profanely  that  the  men 
on  the  other  side  had  also  been  disposed  to 
arrest  him,  and  had  been  dissuaded  with  diffi 
culty. 

"  So  I  guess  I  must  look  some  like  Bransford, 
though  I  would  never  'a'  guessed  it.  Reckon  no 
body  knows  what  they  really  look  like.  Chances 
are  a  feller  wouldn't  know  himself  if  he  met  him 
in  the  road.  That  squares  you,  kid.  No  hard 
feelings?  " 


"  Not  a  bit.  I  certainly  thought  you  were 
Bransford,  at  first,"  said  Griffith. 

"  Well,  the  black-eyed  one — Stone — he's  com 
ing  round  on  the  west  side  now,  cutting  sign.  You 
be  all  ready  to  start  for  Escondido  as  soon  as 
he  gets  here,  Gurd.  Say,  you  don't  want  to  wait 
for  the  sheriff  if  he's  up  on  Rainbow.  You  wire 
a  lot  of  your  friends  to  come  on  the  train  at  nine 
o'clock  to-night.  Sheriff  can  come  when  he  gets 
back.  .There  ain't  but  a  few  horses  at  Escondido. 
You  get  Pappy  Sanders  to  send  your  gang  out 
in  a  wagon — such  as  can't  find  horses." 

"  Better  take  in  both  of  ours,  Gurd,"  said  Grif 
fith.  He  knew  Long  was  all  right,  as  has  been 
said,  but  he  was  also  newly  persuaded  of  his  own 
fallibility.  He  had  been  mistaken  about  Long 
being  Bransford;  therefore  he  might  be  mistaken 
about  Long  being  Long.  In  this  spirit  of  humility 
he  made  the  suggestion  recorded  above,  and  was 
grieved  that  Long  indorsed  it. 

"  And  I  want  you  to  do  two  errands  for  me, 
kid.  You  give  this  to  Pappy  Sanders — the  store 
keeper,  you  know  " — here  he  produced  the  little 
eohippus  from  his  pocket — "  and  tell  him  to  send 
it  to  a  jeweler  for  me  and  get  a  hole  bored  in  it 
so  it'll  balance.  Want  to  use  it  for  a  watch- 
charm  when  I  get  a  watch.  And  if  we  pull  off 
this  Bransford  affair  I'll  have  me  a  watch.  Now 
don't  you  lose  that !  It's  turquoise — worth  a  heap 
o'  money.  Besides,  he's  a  lucky  little  horse." 


i8o  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"  I'll  put  him  in  my  pocketbook,"  said  Gurdon. 

"  Better  give  him  to  Pappy  first  off,  else  you're 
liable  to  forget  about  him,  he's  so  small.  Then 
you  tell  Pappy  to  send  me  out  some  grub.  I  won't 
make  out  no  bill.  He's  grubstakin'  the  mine ;  he'll 
know  what  to  send.  You  just  tell  him  I'm  about 
out  of  patience.  Tell  him  I  want  about  every 
thing  there  is,  and  want  it  quick;  and  a  jar  for 
sour  dough — I  broke  mine.  And  get  some  news 
papers."  He  hesitated  perceptibly.  "  See  here, 
boys,  I  hate  to  mention  this;  but  old  Pappy,  him 
and  this  Jeff  Bransford  is  purty  good  friends.  I 
reckon  Pappy  won't  much  like  it  to  furnish  grub 
for  you  while  you're  puttin'  the  kibosh  on  Jeff. 
You  better  get  some  of  your  own.  You  see  how 
it  is,  don't  you?  'Tain't  like  it  was  my  chuck." 

Stone  came  while  they  saddled.  He  spoke  apart 
with  Griffith  as  to  Mr.  Long,  and  a  certain  favor 
he  bore  to  the  escaped  bank-robber;  but  Griffith, 
admitting  his  own  self-deception  in  that  line,  out 
lined  the  history  of  the  past  unhappy  night. 
Stone,  who  had  suffered  only  a  slight  misgiving, 
was  fully  satisfied. 

As  Steele  started  for  the  railroad  Mr.  Stone 
set  out  to  complete  the  circuit  of  Double  Moun 
tain,  in  the  which  he  found  no  runaway  tracks. 
And  Griffith  and  Long,  sleeping  alternately — es 
pecially  Griffith — kept  faithful  ward  over  the 
gloomy  gate  of  Double  Mountain. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
FLIGHT 

"Keep  away  from  that  wheelbarrow — what  the  hell  do  you 
know  about  machinery?"— ELBERT  HUBBARD.* 

•It  is  not  intimated  that  Mr.  Hubbard  wrote  this — merely 
that  he  printed  it. — AUTHOR. 

JUST  after  dark  a  horseman  with  a  led  horse 
came  jogging  round  the  mountain  on  the 
trail  from  Escondido.  On  the  led  horse  was  a 
pack  bound  rather  slouchily,  not  to  a  packsaddle, 
but  to  an  old  riding  saddle.  The  horses  were 
unwilling  to  enter  the  circle  of  firelight,  so  the 
rider  drew  rein  just  beyond — a  slender  and  boyish 
rider,  with  a  flopping  wide-brimmed  hat  too  large 
for  him. 

"  Oh,  look  who's  here !  "  said  Tobe,  as  one 
who  greets  an  unexpected  friend. 

"  Hello,  Tobe !  Here's  your  food,  grub,  chuck 
and  provisions!  Got  your  outlaw  yet?  Them 
other  fellows  will  be  out  along  toward  midnight." 
He  went  on  without  waiting  for  an  answer:  "  Put 
me  on  your  payroll.  Pappy  said  I  was  to  go  to 
work — and  if  you  was  going  to  quit  work  to  hunt 
down  his  friend  you'd  better  quit  for  good.  Lead 

181 


182  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

on  to  your  little  old  mine.  I  don't  know  where 
it  is,  even." 

"  I'll  go  up  and  unpack,  Rex,"  said  Tobe;  "  but, 
of  course,  I'm  not  going  to  lose  my  part  of  that 
five  thousand.  Pappy's  foolish.  He's  gettin'  old. 
I'll  be  back  after  a  while  and  bring  down  the 
papers." 

Chatting  of  the  trapped  outlaw,  the  Ophir  men 
climbed  the  zigzag  to  the  mine.  To  Griffith,  their 
voices  dwindled  to  an  indistinct  murmur;  a  light 
glowed  through  the  tent  on  the  dump. 

The  stranger  pressed  into  Jeff's  hand  some* 
thing  small  and  hard — the  little  eohippus. 
"  Here's  your  little  old  token.  Pappy  caught  on 
at  once  and  he  sent  me  along  to  represent.  Let's 
get  this  pack  off  and  get  out  of  here.  Do  we 
have  to  go  down  the  same  trail  again?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Jeff.  "  There's  a  wood-trail 
leads  round  the  mountain  to  the  east.  Who're 
you?  I  don't  know  you." 

"  Charley  Gibson.  Pappy  knows  me.  He  sent 
the  little  stone  horse  to  vouch  for  me.  I'm  O.  K. 
Time  enough  to  explain  when  we've  made  a  clean 
getaway." 

"  You're  damn  right  there,"  Jeff  said.  "  That 
boy  down  yonder  is  nobody's  fool.  I'll  light  a 
candle  in  the  tent  and  he'll  think  I'm  reading  the 
newspapers.  That'll  hold  him  a  while." 

"  I'll  be  going  on  down  the  trail,"  said  Gibson. 
"This  way,  isn't  it?" 


FLIGHT  183 

"  Yes,  that's  the  one.  All  right.  Go  slow  and 
don't  make  any  more  noise  than  you  can  help." 

Jeff  would  have  liked  his  own  proper  clothing 
and  effects,  but  there  was  no  time  for  resuscita 
tion.  Lighting  the  candle,  he  acquired  "  Alice  in 
Wonderland  "  and  thrust  it  into  the  bosom  of  his 
shirt.  It  had  been  years  since  last  he  read  that 
admirable  work;  his  way  now  led  either  to  hiding 
or  to  jail — and,  with  Alice  to  share  his  fate,  he 
felt  equal  to  either  fortune.  He  left  the  candle 
burning:  the  tent  shone  with  a  mellow  glow. 

"  If  he  didn't  hear  our  horses  coming  down 
we're  a  little  bit  of  all  right,"  said  Jeff,  as  he  re 
joined  his  rescuer  on  the  level.  "  Even  if  he 
does,  he  may  think  we've  gone  to  hobble  'em — 
only  he'd  think  we  ought  to  water  'em  first.  Now 
for  the  way  of  the  transgressor,  to  Old  Mexico. 
This  little  desert'll  be  one  busy  place  to-morrow !  " 

They  circled  Double  Mountain,  making  a  wide 
detour  to  avoid  rough  going,  and  riding  at  a  hard 
gallop  until,  behind  and  to  their  right,  a  red  spark 
of  fire  came  into  view  from  behind  a  hitherto  in 
tervening  shoulder,  marking  where  Stone  and  Har- 
low  held  the  southward  pass. 

Jeff  drew  rein  and  bore  off  obliquely  toward 
the  road  at  an  easy  trot. 

"  They're  there  yet.  So  that's  all  right!  "  he 
said.  "  They've  just  put  on  fresh  wood.  I  saw 
it  flame  up  just  then."  He  was  in  high  feather. 
He  began  to  laugh,  or,  more  accurately,,  h*  re- 


1 84  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

sumed  his  laughter,  for  he  had  been  too  mirthful 
for  much  speech.  '  That  poor  devil  Griffith  will 
wait  and  fidget  and  stew !  He'll  think  I'm  in  the 
tent,  reading  the  newspapers — reading  about  the 
Arcadian  bank  robbery,  likely.  He'll  wait  a  while, 
then  he'll  yell  at  me.  Then  he'll  think  we've  gone 
to  hobble  the  horses.  He  won't  want  to  leave  the 
gap  unguarded.  He  won't  know  what  to  think. 
Finally  he'll  go  up  to  the  mine  and  see  that  pack 
piled  off  any  which  way,  and  no  saddles.  Then 
he'll  know,  but  he  won't  know  what  to  do.  He'll 
think  we're  for  Old  Mexico,  but  he  won't  know 
it  for  sure.  And  it's  too  dark  to  track  us.  Oh, 
my  stars,  but  I  bet  he'll  be  mad !  " 

Which  shows  that  we  all  make  mistakes.  Mr. 
Griffith,  though  young,  was  of  firm  character,  as 
has  been  lightly  intimated.  He  waited  a  reason 
able  time  to  allow  for  paper-reading,  then  he 
waited  a  little  longer  and  shouted;  but  when  there 
was  no  answer  he  knew  at  once  precisely  what 
had  happened:  he  had  not  been  a  fool  at  all,  what 
ever  Steele  and  Bransford  had  assured  him,  and 
he  was  a  bigger  fool  to  have  allowed  himself  to 
be  persuaded  that  he  had  been.  It  is  true  that 
he  didn't  know  what  was  best  to  do,  but  he  knew 
exactly  what  he  was  going  to  do — and  did  it 
promptly.  Seriously  annoyed,  he  spurred  through 
Double  Mountain,  gathered  up  Stone  and  Harlow, 
and  followed  the  southward  road.  Bransford  had 


FLIGHT  185 

been  on  the  way  to  Old  Mexico — he  was  on  that 
road  still;  Griffith  put  everything  on  the  one  bold 
cast.  While  the  others  saddled  he  threw  fresh 
fuel  on  the  fire,  with  a  rankling  memory  of  the 
candle  in  the  deserted  tent  and  Hannibal  at  Saint 
Jo.  For  the  first  time  Griffith  had  the  better  of 
the  long  battle  of  wits.  That  armful  of  fuel 
slowed  Jeff  from  gallop  to  trot,  turned  assured 
victory  into  a  doubtful  contest;  when  the  fugitives 
regained  the  El  Paso  road  Griffith's  vindictive 
little  band  was  not  five  miles  behind  them. 

The  night  was  lightly  clouded — not  so  dark  but 
that  the  pursuers  noticed — or  thought  they  no 
ticed — the  fresh  tracks  in  the  road  when  they 
came  to  them.  They  stopped,  struck  matches 
and  confirmed  their  hopes :  two  shod  horses  going 
south  at  a  smart  gait;  the  dirt  was  torn  up  too 
much  for  travelers  on  their  lawful  occasions. 
From  that  moment  Griffith  urged  the  chase  un 
mercifully;  the  fleeing  couple,  in  fancied  security, 
lost  ground  with  every  mile. 

"  How  on  earth  did  you  manage  it?  Didn't 
they  know  you  ?  "  demanded  Gibson  as  the  pace 
slackened. 

"It  wasn't  me!  It  was  Tobe  Long!  ' Yoii 
may  not  have  lived  much  under  the  sea,  and  pep- 
haps  you  were  never  even  introduced  to  a  lob 
ster,'  "  quoted  Jeff.  Rocking  in  the  saddle,  he 
gave  a  mirthful  resume  of  his  little  evanishment. 


1 86  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"  And,  oh,  just  think  of  that  candle  burning  away 
in  that  quiet,  empty  tent!  If  I  could  have  seen 
Griffith's  face !  "  he  gloated.  "  Oh  me !  Oh  my ! 
.  .  .  And  he  was  so  sure!  .  .  .  Say,  Gibson, 
how  do  you  come  in  this  galley?  "  As  a  lone 
prospector  his  speech  had  been  fittingly  coarse; 
now,  with  every  mile,  he  shook  off  the  debasing 
influence  of  Mr.  Long.  "  Kettle-washing  makes 
black  hands.  Aren't  you  afraid  you'll  get  into 
trouble?" 

"  Nobody  knows  I'm  kettle-washing,  except 
Pappy  Sanders  and  you,"  said  Gibson.  "  I  was 
careful  not  to  let  your  friend  see  me  at  the  fire." 

"  I'll  do  you  a  good  turn  sometime,"  said  Jeff. 
He  rode  on  in  silence  for  a  while  and  presently 
was  lost  in  his  own  thoughts,  leaning  over  with 
his  hands  folded  on  his  horse's  neck.  In  a  low 
and  thoughtful  voice  he  half  repeated,  half 
chanted  to  himself: 

"  Illilleo  Legardi,  in  the  garden  there  alone, 
There  came  to  me  no  murmur  of  the  fountain's  under 
tone 
So  mystically,  magically  mellow  as  your  own !  " 

Another  silence.  Then  Jeff  roused  himself,  with 
a  start. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Gibson,  you'd  better  cut 
loose  from  me.  So  far  as  I  can  see,  you  are  only 
a  kid.  You  don't  want  to  get  mixed  up  in  a  mur- 


FLIGHT  187 

der  scrape.  This  would  go  pretty  hard  with  you 
if  they  can  prove  it  on  you.  Of  course,  I'm  aw 
fully  obliged  to  you  and  all  that;  but  you'd  better 
quit  me  while  the  quitting's  good." 

"  Oh,  no ;  I'll  see  you  through,"  said  Gibson 
lightly.  "  Besides,  I  know  you  had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  murder." 

"Oh,  the  hell  you  do!"  said  Jeff.  "That's 
kind  of  you,  I'm  sure.  See  here,  who'd  sold  you 
your  chips,  anyway?  How'd  you  get  in  this 
game  ?  " 

"  I  got  in  this  game,  as  you  put  it,  because  I 
jolly  well  wanted  to,"  replied  Charley,  with  be 
coming  spirit.  "  That  ought  to  be  reason  enough 
for  anything  in  this  country.  Nothing  against  it 
in  the  rules — and  I  don't  use  the  rules,  anyhow. 
If  you  must  have  it  all  spelled  out  for  you — I 
knew,  or  at  least  I'd  heard,  that  your  friends  were 
away  from  Rainbow;  so  I  judged  you  wouldn't 
go  up  there.  Then  I  knew  those  four  amateur 
Sherlocks — they're  in  my  set  in  Arcadia.  When 
two  of  the  deerhunters,  after  starting  at  two  A.M., 
came  back  to  Arcadia  the  same  morning  they  left, 
looking  all  wise  and  important,  and  slipped  off 
on  the  train  to  Escondido,  saying  nothing  to  any 
one — and  when  the  other  two  didn't  come  home 
at  all — I  began  to  think ;  went  down  to  the  depot, 
found  they  had  gone  to  Escondido,  and  I  came  on 
the  next  train.  I  found  out  Pappy  was  your 
friend;  and  when  he  got  your  little  hurry-up  calf 


i88  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

I  volunteered  my  services,  seeing  Pappy  was  too 
old  and  not  footloose  anyhow — with  a  wife  and 
property.  That's  the  how  of  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,  that's  all  right;  but  what  makes  you 
think  I'm  innocent?  " 

"  I  know  Mr.  White,  you  see.  And  Mr.  White 
seems  to  think  that  at  about  the  time  the  bank 
was  robbed  you  were — in  a  garden!  "  Charley's 
voice  was  edged  with  faint  mockery. 

"  Huh!  "  said  Jeff,  startled.  "  Who  in  hell  is 
Mr.  White?" 

"Mr.  White— in  hell — is  the  devil!"  said 
Charley. 

At  this  unexpected  disclosure  Jeff  lashed  his 
horse  to  a  gallop — his  spurs,  you  remember,  being 
certain  feet  under  the  Ophir  dump — and  strove  to 
bring  his  thoughts  to  bear  upon  this  new  situation. 
He  slowed  down  and  Charley  drew  up  beside 
him. 

"  You  seem  to  have  stayed  quite  a  while — in 
a  garden,"  suggested  Charley. 

"  That  tongue  of  yours  is  going  to  get  you  into 
trouble  yet,"  said  Jeff.  "  You'll  never  live  to  be 
grayheaded." 

Charley  was  not  to  be  daunted. 

"  Say,  Jeff,  she's  pretty  easy  to  get  acquainted 
with,  what?  And  those  eyes  of  hers — a  little  on 
the  see-you-later  style,  aren't  they?" 

Jeff  turned  in  his  saddle. 

"Now  you  look  here,  Mr.  Charley  Gibson! 


FLIGHT  189 

I'm  under  obligations  to  you,  and  so  on — but  I've 
heard  all  of  that  kind  of  talk  that's  good — sabe?  " 

"  Oh,  I  know  her,"  persisted  Charley.  "  Know 
her  by  heart — know  her  like  a  book.  She  made  a 
fool  of  me,  too.  She  drives  'em  single,  double, 
tandem,  random  and  four  abreast!  " 

"  You  little  beast !  "  Jeff  launched  his  horse 
at  the  traducer,  but  Gibson  spurred  aside. 

"  Stop  now,  Jeffy !  Easy  does  it  I  I've  got  a 
gun!" 

"  Shut  your  damn  head  then!  Gun  or  no  gun, 
don't  you  take  that  girl's  name  in  your  mouth 
again,  or Hark!  What's  that?" 

It  was  a  clatter  far  behind — a  ringing  of  swift 
hoofs  on  hard  ground. 

"  By  George,  they're  coming!  Griffith  will  be 
a  man  yet !  "  said  Jeff  approvingly.  "  Come  on, 
kid;  we've  got  to  burn  the  breeze!  I  suppose 
that  talk  of  yours  is  only  your  damn  fool  idea  of 
fun,  but  I  don't  like  it.  Cut  it  out,  now,  and  ride 
like  a  drunk  Indian !  "  He  laughed  loud  and  long. 
"  Think  o'  that  candle,  will  you  ? — burning  away 
with  a  clear,  bright,  steady  flame,  and  nobody 
within  ten  miles  of  it!  " 

They  raced  side  by  side;  but  Gibson,  heedless 
of  their  perilous  situation,  or  perhaps  taking  ad 
vantage  of  it,  took  a  malicious  delight  in  goading 
Jeff  to  madness ;  and  he.  refused  either  to  be  silent 
or  to  talk  about  candles,  notwithstanding  Jeff's 
preference  for  that  topic. 


190  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"  I'm  not  joking!  I'm  telling  you  for  your  own 
good."  Here  the  tormentor  prudently  fell  back 
half  a  length  and  raised  his  voice  so  as  to  be 
heard  above  the  flying  feet.  "  Hasn't  she  gone 
back  to  New  York,  I'd  like  to  know,  and  left  you 
to  get  out  of  it  the  best  way  you  can?  She  could 
'a'  stayed  if  she'd  wanted  to.  Don't  tell  me! 
Haven't  I  seen  how  she  bosses  her  mother  round? 
No,  sir!  She's  willing  to  let  you  hang  to  save 
herself  a  little  slander — or,  more  likely,  a  little 
talk!" 

Jeff  whirled  his  horse  to  his  haunches,  but  once 
more  Gibson  was  too  quick  for  him.  Gibson's 
horse  was  naturally  the  nimbler  of  the  two,  even 
without  the  advantage  of  spurs. 

"  That's  a  lie !  She  was  going  to  tell — she  was 
bound  to  tell;  I  made  her  keep  silent.  After  I 
jumped  out  she  couldn't  well  say  anything.  That's 
why  I  jumped.  Was  I  going  to  make  her  a  target 
for  such  vile  tongues  as  yours — for  me?  Oh! 
You  ought  to  be  shot  out  of  a  red-hot  cannon, 
through  a  barbed-wire  fence,  into  hell!  You  lie, 
you  coward,  you  know  you  lie !  I'll  cram  it  down 
your  throat  if  you'll  get  off  and  throw  that  gun 
down!" 

"Yah!  It's  likely  I'll  put  the  gun  down!" 
scoffed  Gibson.  "  Ride  on,  you  fool !  Do  you 
want  to  hang?  Ride  on  and  keep  ahead!  Re 
member,  I've  got  the  gun!  " 

"  Hanging's  not  so  bad,"  snarled  Jeff.     "  I'd 


FLIGHT  191 

rather  be  hung  decently  than  be  such  a  thing  as 
you!  Oh,  if  I  just  had  a  gun!  " 

The  sound  of  pursuit  was  clearer  now;  and,  of 
course,  the  pursuers  could  hear  the  pursued  as  well 
and  fought  for  every  inch. 

Jeff  rode  on,  furious  at  his  helplessness.  For 
several  miles  his  tormentor  raced  behind  in  si 
lence,  fearing,  if  he  persisted  longer  in  his  evil 
course,  that  Jeff  would  actually  stop  and  give  him 
self  up.  They  gained  now  on  their  pursuers,  who 
had  pressed  their  horses  overhard  to  make  up  the 
five-mile  handicap. 

As  they  came  to  a  patch  of  sandy  ground  they 
eased  the  pace  somewhat.  Charley  drew  a  little 
closer  to  Jeff. 

"  Now  don't  get  mad.  I  had  no  idea  you 
thought  so  much  of  the  girl " 

"  Shut  up,  will  you?  " 

" or  I  wouldn't  have  deviled  you  so.  I'll 

quit.  How  was  I  to  know  you'd  stop  to  fight  for 
her  with  the  very  rope  round  your  neck?  It's  a 
pity  she'll  never  know  about  it.  ...  You  can't 
have  seen  her  more  than  two  or  three  times — and 
Heaven  only  knows  where  that  was!  On  that 
camping  trip,  I  reckon.  What  kind  of  a  girl  is 
she,  anyhow,  to  hold  clandestine  interviews  with 
a  stranger?  .  .  .  She'll  write  to  you  by  and  by 
— a  little  scented  note,  with  a  little  stilted,  mean 
ingless  word  of  thanks.  No,  she  won't.  It'll  be 
gushy :  '  Oh,  my  hero !  How  can  I  ever  repay 


192  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

you?'  She  won't  let  you  out  of  her  clutches — 
anybody,  so  long  as  it's  a  man!  Here!  None 
o'  that!  ...  Go  on,  now,  if  you  want  to 
live!" 

"  Who  the  hell  wants  to  live?  " 

A  noose  flew  back  from  the  darkness.  Jeff's 
horse  darted  aside  and  Gibson  was  jerked  sprawl 
ing  to  the  sand  at  a  rope's  end — hat  flew  one 
way,  gun  another.  Jeff  ran  to  the  six-shooter. 

"Who's  got  the  gun  now?"  he  jeered,  as  he 
loosened  the  rope.  "  I  only  wish  we  had  two  of 
'em!" 

"You  harebrained  idiot!"  Charley  grabbed 
up  his  hat  and  spit  sand  from  his  mouth.  "  Get 
your  horse  and  ride,  you  unthinkable  donkey !  " 

"  Pleasure  first,  business  afterward!  "  Jeff  un 
buckled  Gibson's  gunbelt  and  transferred  it  to  his 
own  waist,  jerking  Gibson  to  his  feet  in  the  vio 
lent  process.  "  Now,  you  little  blackguard,  you 
either  take  back  all  that  or  you'll  get  the  lickin' 
o'  your  life!  You're  too  small;  but  all  the 
same " 

"  Oh,  I'll  take  it  back,  you  big  bully — all  I  said 
and  a  lot  more  I  only  thought!  "  said  Charley 
spitefully.  He  was  almost  crying  with  rage  as  he 
limped  to  his  horse.  "  She's  an  angel  on  earth! 
Sure  she  is!  Ride,  you  maniac — ride!  Oh,  you 
ought  to  be  hung!  I  hope  you  do  hang — you 
miserable  ruffian !  " 

.The  following  hoofs  no  longer  rang  sharply; 


FLIGHT  193 

they  took  on  a  muffled  beat — they  were  in  the 
sand's  edge  not  a  mile  behind. 

"  Ride  ahead,  you !  I've  got  the  gun,  remem 
ber!  "  observed  Jeff  significantly;  "  but  if  you  slur 
that  girl  again  I'll  not  shoot  you — I'll  naturally 
wear  you  out  with  this  belt." 


CHAPTER  XV] 
GOOD-BY 

"They  have  ridden  the  low  moon  out  of  the  sky;  their  hoofs 
drum  up  the  dawn." — T<wo  Strong  Men,  KIPLING. 

"T'M  not  speaking  of  her  and  I'm  not  going 
J[  to,"  protested  Gibson,  in  a  changed  tone. 
"  I'll  promise !  My  horse  is  failing,  Jeff.  I  rode 
hard  and  fast  from  Escondido.  Your  horse  car 
ried  nothing  much  but  a  saddle — that  pack  was 
mostly  bluff,  you  know.  And  those  fellows'  horses 
have  come  twenty  miles  less  than  either  of  ours." 

No  answer. 

"  I  don't  believe  we're  going  to  make  it,  Jeff !  " 
There  was  a  forlorn  little  quaver  in  Charley's 
voice. 

Jeff  grunted.  "Uh!  Maybe  not.  Griffith'll 
be  real  pleased." 

Gibson  rode  closer.  "  Can't  we  turn  off  the 
road  and  hide?  " 

"  Till  daylight,"  said  Jeff.  "  Then  they'll  get 
us.  No  way  out  of  this  desert  except  across  the 
edges  somewhere.  You  go  if  you  want  to.  They 
won't  bother  to  hunt  for  you,  maybe,  if  they  get 


194 


GOOD-BY  195 

"No.  It's  my  fault.  .  .  .  I'll  see  it  out. 
.  .  .  I'm  sorry,  Jeff — but  it  was  so  funny!  " 
Here,  rather  to  Jeff's  surprise,  Charley's  dejection 
gave  place  to  laughter. 

They  rode  up  a  sandy  slope  where  mesquites 
grew  black  along  the  road.  Blown  sand  had 
lodged  to  hummocks  in  their  thick  and  matted 
growth;  the  road  was  a  sunken  way. 

"  How  far  is  it  from  here,  Jeff  ?  " 

"  iTen  miles — maybe  only  eight — to  the  river. 
We're  in  Texas  now — have  been  for  an  hour." 

"  Think  we  can  make  it?  " 

"Quien  sabe?" 

Gibson  drew  rein.  "  You  go  on.  Your  horse 
isn't  so  tirecL" 

"  Oh,  I  guess  not!  "  said  Jeff.    "  Come  on." 

The  sound  of  pursuit  came  clear  through  the 
quiet  night.  There  was  silence  for  a  little. 

"  What'll  you  do,  Jeff?    Fight?  " 

"  I  can't!  "  said  Jeff.  "  Hurt  those  boys?  I 
couldn't  fight,  the  way  it  is — hardly,  even  if  'twas 
the  sheriff.  I'll  just  hang,  I  reckon." 

They  reached  the  top  of  the  little  slope  and 
turned  down  the  other  side. 

"  I  don't  altogether  like  this  hanging  idea," 
said  Gibson.  "  I  got  you  into  this,  Jeff;  so  I'll 
just  get  you  out  again — like  the  man  in  our  town 
who  was  so  wondrous  wise.  Going  to  use  bramble 
bushes,  too."  Volatile  Gibson,  in  the  stress  of 
danger,  had  forgotten  his  wrath.  He  was  light- 


hearted  and  happy,  frivolously  gay.  "  Give  me 
your  rope  and  your  gun,  Jeff.  Quick  now! 
No,  I  won't  mention  your  girl — not  once! 
Hurry!" 

"What  you  going  to  do?"  asked  Jeff,  thor 
oughly  mystified. 

"Ever  read  the  'Fool's  Errand'?"  Charley 
chuckled.  "No?  Well,  I  have.  Jump  off  and 
tie  the  end  of  your  rope  to  that  mesquite  root. 
Quick!" 

He  sprang  down,  snatched  one  end  of  the  coil 
from  Jeff's  hand  and  stretched  it  taut  across  the 
road,  a  foot  from  the  ground.  "  Now  your  gun! 
Quick!" 

He  snatched  the  gun,  tied  an  end  of  his  own 
saddle-rope  to  the  stretched  one,  near  the  middle, 
plunged  through  the  mesquite,  over  a  hummock, 
paying  out  his  rope  as  he  went;  wedged  the  gun 
firmly  in  the  springing  crotch  of  a  mesquite  tree, 
cocked  it  and  tied  the  loose  end  of  the  trailing 
rope  to  the  trigger.  He  ran  back  and  sprang  on 
his  horse. 

"  Now  ride!    It's  our  last  chance!  " 

"  Kid,  you're  a  wonder!  "  said  Jeff.  "  You'll 
do  to  take  along!  They'll  lope  up  when  they 
turn  down  that  slope,  hit  that  rope  and  pile  in  a 
heap!" 

"  And  my  rope  will  fire  the  gun  off!  "  shrilled 
joyous  Charley.  "  They'll  think  it's  us — an  am 
buscade " 


GOOD-BY  197 

"  They'll  take  to  the  sandhills,"  Jeff  broke  in. 
"  They'll  shoot  into  the  bushes — they'll  think  it's 
us  firing  back,  half  the  time.  .  .  .  They'll  scat 
ter  out  and  surround  that  lonesome,  harmless 
motte  and  watch  it  till  daylight.  You  bet  they 
won't  go  projecting  round  it  any  till  daylight, 
either!"  He  looked  up  at  the  sky.  "There's 
the  morning  star.  See  it?  '  They  have  ridden 
the  low  moon  out  of  the  sky  ' — only  there  isn't  any 
moon — 4  their  hoofs  drum  up  the  dawn/  Then 
they'll  find  our  tracks — and  if  I  only  could  see 
the  captain's  face !  *  Oh,  my  threshings,  and  the 
corn  of  my  floor! '  .  .  .  And  by  then  we'll  be 
in  Mexico  and  asleep.  .  .  .  When  Griffith  finds 
that  gun — oh,  he'll  never  show  his  head  in  Arcadia 
again!  .  .  .  Say,  Charley,  I  hope  none  of  'em 
get  hurt  when  they  strike  your  skip-rope." 

"  Huh!  It's  sandy!  A  heap  you  cared  about 
me  getting  hurt  when  you  dragged  me  from  my 
horse!"  said  Gibson,  rather  snappishly.  "You 
did  hurt  me,  too.  You  nearly  broke  my  neck  and 
you  cut  my  arms.  And  I  got  full  of  mesquite 
thorns  when  I  set  that  gun.  You  don't  care !  I'm 
only  the  man  that  came  to  save  your  neck.  That's 
the  thanks  I  get!  But  the  men  that  are  trying  to 
hang  you — that's  different!  You'd  better  go 
back.  They  might  get  hurt.  You'll  be  sorry 
sometime  for  the  way  you've  treated  me.  There—- 
it's  too  late  now!  " 

A  shot  rang  behind  them.    There  was  a  brief 


198  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

silence.  Then  came  a  sharp  fusillade,  followed  by 
scattering  shots,  dwindling  to  longer  intervals. 

Jeff  clung  to  his  saddlehorn. 

"  I  guess  they  ain't  hurt  much,"  he  laughed. 
"  Wish  I  could  see  'em  when  they  find  out !  Slow 
down,  kid.  We've  got  lots  of  time  now." 

"  We  haven't,"  protested  Charley.  "  Keep 
moving.  It's  hard  on  the  horses,  but  they'll  have 
a  lifetime  to  rest  in.  They've  telegraphed  all 
over  the  country.  You  want  to  cross  the  river 
before  daylight.  It  would  be  too  bad  for  you  to 
be  caught  now!  Is  there  any  ford,  do  you 
know?" 

"  Not  this  time  of  year.    River's  up." 

"  Cross  in  a  boat  then?  " 

"  Guess  we'd  better.  That  horse  of  yours  is 
pretty  well  used  up.  Don't  believe  he  could  swim 
it" 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  going  over.  I'll  get  up  to  El 
Paso.  I've  got  friends  there." 

"  You'll  get  caught." 

"  No,  I  won't.  I'm  not  going  across,  I  tell  you, 
and  that's  all  there  is  to  it!  I  guess  I'll  have 
something  to  say  about  things.  I'm  going  to  see 
you  safely  over,  and  that's  the  last  you'll  ever 
see  of  Charley  Gibson." 

"Oh,  well!"  Jeff  reflected  a  little.  "If  you're 
sure  you  won't  come  along,  I'd  rather  swim.  My 
horse  is  strong  yet.  You  see,  it  takes  time  to 
find  a  boat,  and  a  boat  means  a  house  and  dogs; 


GOOD-BY  [199 

and  I'll  need  my  horse  on  the  other  side.  How'll 
you  get  to  El  Paso?  Griffith'!!  likely  come  down 
here  about  an  hour  by  sun,  'cross  lots,  a-cryin'." 

"  I'll  manage  that,"  said  Gibson  curtly  enough. 
*'  You  tend  to  your  own  affair." 

"  Oh,  all  right!  "  Jeff  rode  ahead  He  whis 
tled;  then  he  chanted  his  war  song: 

"Said  the  little  Eohippus: 

'  I'm  going  to  be  a  horse! 
And  on  my  middle  fingernails 

To  run  my  earthly  course ! ' 
The  Coryphodon  was  horrified; 

The  Dinoceras  was  shocked; 
And  they  chased  young  Eohippus, 

But  he  skipped  away  and  mocked. 

"  Said  they :  '  You  always  were  as  small 

And  mean  as  now  we  see, 
And  that's  conclusive  evidence 

That  you're  always  going  to  be. 
What !    Be  a  great,  tall,  handsome  beast, 

With  hoofs  to  gallop  on? 
Why !    You'd  have  to  change  your  nature! ' 

Said  the  Loxolophodon. " 

"Jeff!" 

"  Well?  "  Jeff  turned  his  head.  Charley  was 
drooping  visibly. 

"  Stop  that  foolish  song!  " 

Jeff  rode  on  in  silence.    This  was  a  variable 


200  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

person,  Gibson.  They  were  dropping  down  from 
the  mesa  into  the  valley  of  the  Rio  Grande. 

"Jeff!" 

Jeff  fell  back  beside  Charley.  "  Tired,  pard- 
ner?" 

"Jeff,  I'm  terribly  tired!  I'm  not  used  to 
riding  so  far;  and  I'm  sleepy — so  sleepy!  " 

"All  right,  par'dner;  we'll  go  slower.  We'll 
walk.  Most  there  now.  There's  the  railroad." 

"  Keep  on  trotting.  I  can  stand  it.  We  must 
get  to  the  river  before  daylight.  Is  it  far?" 
Charley's  voice  was  weary.  The  broad  sombrero 
drooped  sympathetically. 

"  Two  miles  to  the  river.  El  Paso's  seven  or 
eight  miles  up  the  line.  Brace  up,  old  man! 
You've  done  fine  and  dandy !  It's  just  because  the 
excitement  is  all  over.  Why  should  you  go  any 
farther,  anyhow?  There's  Ysleta  up  the  track 
a  bit.  Follow  the  road  up  there  and  flag  the 
first  train.  That'll  be  best." 

"  No,  no.  I'll  go  all  the  way.  I'll  make  out." 
Charley  straightened  himself  with  an  effort. 

They  crossed  the  Espee  tracks  and  came  to  a 
lane  between  cultivated  fields. 

"  Jeff !  I'd  like  to  say  something.  It  won't  be 
breaking  my  promise  really.  ...  I  didn't  mean 
what  I  said  about — you  know.  I  was  only  teasing. 
She's  a  good  enough  girl,  I  guess — as  girls  go." 

Jeff  nodded.    "  I  did  not  need  to  be  told  that." 

"  And  you  left  her  in  a  cruel  position  when  you 


GOOD-BY  201 

jumped  out  of  the  window.  She  can't  tell  now,  so 
long  as  there's  any  other  way.  What  a  foolish 
thing  to  do !  If  you'd  just  said  at  first  that  you 

were  in  the  garden Oh,  why  didn't  you? 

But  after  the  chances  you  took  rather  than  to 
tell — why,  Jeff,  it  would  be  terrible  for  her  now.'* 

"  I  know  that,  too,"  said  Jeff.  "  I  suppose  I 
was  a  fool ;  but  I  didn't  want  her  to  get  mixed  up 
with  it,  and  at  the  same  time  I  cared  less  about 
hanging  than  any  time  I  can  remember.  You  see, 
I  didn't  know  till  the  last  minute  that  the  garden 
was  going  to  cut  any  figure.  And  do  you  suppose 
I'd  have  that  courthouseful  of  fools  buzzing  and 
whispering  at  her?  Not  much!  Maybe  it  was 
foolish — but  I'm  glad  I  did  it." 

"  I'm  glad  of  it,  too.  If  you  had  to  be  a  fool," 
said  Charley,  "  I'm  glad  you  were  that  kind  of 
a  fool.  Are  you  still  mad  at  me?  " 

Since  Charley  had  recanted,  and  more  especially 
since  he  had  taken  considerate  thought  for  the 
girl's  compulsory  silence,  Jeff's  anger  had  evap 
orated. 

"  That's  all  right,  pardner.  .,  ,.•  .  Only  you 
oughtn't  never  to  talk  that  way  about  a  girl — 
even  for  a  joke.  That's  no  good  kind  of  a  joke. 
Men,  now,  that's  different.  See  here,  I'll  give 
you  an  order  to  a  fellow  in  El  Paso — Hibler — 
to  pay  for  your  horses  and  your  gun.  Here's 
your  belt,  too." 

Charley  shook  his  head  impatiently.    "  I  don't 


202  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

want  any  money.  Settle  with  Pappy  for  the 
horses.  I  won't  take  this  one  back.  Keep  the 
belt.  You  may  want  it  to  beat  me  with  sometime. 
What  are  you  going  to  do,  Jeff?  Aren't  you  ever 
coming  back?  " 

"  Sure  I'll  come  back — if  only  to  see  Griffith 
again.  I'll  write  to  John  Wesley  Pringle — he's 
my  mainest  side  pardner — and  sick  him  on  to  find 
out  who  robbed  that  bank — to  prove  it,  rather. 
I  just  about  almost  nearly  know  who  it  was.  Old 
Wes'll  straighten  things  out  a-flying.  I'll  be  back 
in  no  time.  I  got  to  come  back,  Charley!  " 

The  river  was  in  sight.  The  stars  were  fading; 
there  was  a  flush  in  the  east,  a  smell  of  dawn  in 
the  air. 

"  Jeff,  I  wish  you'd  do  something  for  me." 

"Sure,  Charley.    What  is  it?" 

"  I  wish  you'd  give  me  that  little  turquoise  horse 
to  remember  you  by." 

Jeff  was  silent  for  a  little.  He  had  framed  out 
another  plan  for  the  little  eohippus — namely,  to 
give  him  to  Miss  Ellinor.  He  sighed;  but  he 
owed  a  good  deal  to  Charley. 

"  All  right,  Charley.  Take  good  care  of  him 
— he's  a  lucky  little  horse.  I  think  a  heap  of  him. 
Here  we  arel " 

The  trees  were  distinct  in  the  growing  light. 
Jeff  rode  into  the  river;  the  muddy  water  swirled 
about  his  horse's  knees.  He  halted  for  parting; 
Gibson  rode  in  beside  him.  Jeff  took  the  precious 


GOOD-BY  203 

Alice  book  from  his  bosom,  put  it  in  the  crown 
of  his  miner's  cap  and  jammed  the  cap  tightly  on 
his  head. 

"  Better  change  your  mind,  Charley.  Come 
along.  We'll  rout  somebody  out  and  order  a  dish 
of  stewed  eggs. 

"  There  is  another  shore,  you  know,  upon  the  other  side. 
The  farther  off  from  England  the  nearer  'tis  to  France ; 
Then  turn  not  pale,  beloved  snail,  but  come  and  join 

the  dance. 
Will  you — won't  you——" 

"  '  No,  I  won't!  I  told  you  once! '  "  snapped 
the  beloved  snail. 

"  Here's  the  little  eohippus  horse  then."  As 
Charley  took  it  Jeff  wrung  his  hand.  "  By 
George,  I've  got  to  change  my  notion  of  Arcadia 
people.  If  there's  many  like  you  and  Griffith, 
Arcadia's  going  to  crowd  the  map!  ..  (.,  .  Well 
— so  long!  " 

"  It  looks  awful  wide,  Jeff !  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  be  all  right — swim  it  myself  if  the 
horse  plays  out — and  if  I  don't  have  no  cramps, 
as  I  might,  of  course,  after  this  ride.  Well — here 
goes  nothin' !  Take  care  of  the  little  horse.  I 
hope  he  brings  you  good  luck!  " 

"Well— so  long,  then!" 

Bransford  rode  into  the  muddy  waters.  They 
came  to  the  horse's  breast,  his  neck;  he  plunged 


204  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

in,  sank,  rose,  and  was  borne  away  down  the  swift 
current,  breasting  the  flood  stoutly — and  so  went 
quartering  across  to  the  farther  bank.  It  took 
a  long  time.  It  was  quite  light  when  the  hprse 
found  footing  on  a  sandbar  half  a  mile  below, 
rested,  and  splashed  whitely  through  the  shallows 
to  the  bank.  Gibson  swung  his  sombrero.  Jeff 
waved  his  hand,  rode  to  the  fringing  bushes,  and 
was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  LAND  OF  AFTERNOON 

"  Dreaming  once  more  love's  old  sad  dream  divine." 

T  OS  BANGS  DE  SANTA  EULALIA  DEL 

1  j  NORTE,  otherwise  known  as  Mud  Springs, 
is  a  Mexican  hamlet  with  one  street  of  about  the 
same  length.  Los  Banos  and  Co.  lies  in  a  loop 
of  the  Rio  Grande,  half  of  a  long  day  from  El 
Paso,  in  mere  miles ;  otherwise  a  contemporary  of 
Damascus  and  Arpad. 

Thither,  mindful  of  the  hot  springs  which  sup 
ply  the  preliminaries  of  the  name,  Mr.  Bransford 
made  his  way:  mindful  too,  of  sturdy  old  Don 
Francisco,  a  friend  twice  bound  by  ancient  service 
given  and  returned. 

He  climbed  the  slow  long  ridges  to  the  high 
mesa:  for  the  river  bent  here  in  a  long  ox-bow, 
where  a  bold  promontory  shouldered  far  out  to 
bar  the  way:  weary  miles  were  to  be  saved  by 
crossing  the  neck  of  this  ox-bow,  and  the  tough 
horse  tired  and  lagged. 

The  slow  sun  rose  as  he  reached  the  Rim.  It 
showed  the  wide  expanse  of  desert  behind  him, 
flooded  with  trembling  light ;  eastward,  beyond  the 

205 


206  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

river,  the  buttressed  and  fantastic  peaks  of  Fray 
Cristobal;  their  jutting  shadows  streaming  into 
the  gulf  beyond,  athwart  the  silvery  ribbon  of 
gleaming  water,  twining  in  mazy  loops  across  the 
valley  floor:  it  showed  the  black  Rim  at  his  feet, 
a  frowning  level  wall  of  lava  cliff,  where  the  plain 
broke  abruptly  into  the  chasm  beneath;  the  iron 
desolation  of  the  steep  sides,  boulder-strewn,  sav 
age  and  forbidding: 

"  A  land  of  old  up-heaven  from  the  abyss.",' 

Long  since,  there  had  been  a  flourishing  Mexi 
can  town  in  the  valley.  A  wagon-road  had  pain 
fully  climbed  a  long  ridge  to  the  Rim,  twisting, 
doubling,  turning,  clinging  hazardously  to  the 
hill-side,  its  outer  edge  a  wall  built  up  with  stone, 
till  it  came  to  the  shoulder  under  the  tremendous 
barrier.  From  there  it  turned  northward,  paral 
leling  the  Rim  in  mile-long  curve  above  a  deep 
gorge;  turning,  in  a  last  desperate  climb,  to  a 
solitary  gateway  in  the  black  wall,  torn  out  by 
flood-waters  through  slow  centuries.  Smallpox 
had  smitten  the  people ;  the  treacherous  river  had 
devastated  the  fertile  valley,  and,  subsiding,  left 
the  rich  fields  a  waste  of  sand.  The  town  was 
long  deserted;  the  disused  road  was  gullied  and 
torn  by  flood,  the  soil  washed  away,  leaving  a 
heaped  and  crumbled  track  of  tangled  stone.  But 
it  was  the  only  practicable  way  as  far  as  the  sand- 


THE  LAND  OF  AFTERNOON     207 

hills,  and  Jeff  led  his  horse  down  the  ruined  path, 
with  many  a  turning  back  and  scrambling  detour. 

The  shadows  of  the  eastern  hills  drew  back 
before  him  as  he  reached  the  sand-dunes.  When 
he  rode  through  the  silent  streets  of  what  had 
been  Alamocita,  the  sun  peered  over  Fray  Cris 
tobal,  gilding  the  crumbling  walls,  where  love  and 
laughter  had  made  music,  where  youth  and  hope 
and  happiness  had  been.  .  .  .  Silent  now  and 
deserted,  given  over  to  lizard  and  bat  and  owl, 
the  smiling  gardens  choked  with  sand  and  grass, 
springing  with  mesquite  and  tornillo;  a  few  fruit 
trees,  gnarled  and  tangled,  drooping  for  days  de 
parted,  when  young  mothers  sang  low  lullaby  be 
neath  their  branches.  .  .  .  Passed  away  and  for 
gotten — hopes  and  fears,  tears  and  smiles,  birth 
and  death,  joy  and  sorrow,  hatred  and  sin  and 
shame,  falsehood  and  truth  and  courage  and  love. 
The  sun  shone  cheerfully  on  these  gray  ruins — as 
it  has  shone  on  a  thousand  such,  and  will  shine. 

Jeff  turned  down  the  river,  past  the  broken 
acequias,  to  where  a  massive  spur  of  basaltic  rock 
had  turned  the  fury  of  the  floods  and  spared  a  few 
fields.  In  this  sheltered  cove  dwelt  Don  Francisco 
Escobar  in  true  pastoral  and  patriarchal  manner; 
his  stalwart  sons  and  daughters,  with  their  sons 
and  daughters  in  turn,  in  clustering  adobes  around 
him :  for  neighbors,  the  allied  family  of  Gonzales 
y  Ortega. 

A    cheerful    settlement,    this    of    Los    Bafios, 


208  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

nestling  at  the  foot  of  the  friendly  rampart,  shel 
tered  alike  from  flood  and  wind.  South  and  west 
the  close  black  Rim  walled  the  horizon,  the  fantasy 
of  Fray  Cristobal  closed  in  the  narrow  east:  but 
northward,  beyond  the  low  sand-hills  and  the  blue 
heat-haze,  the  high  peaks  of  Organ,  Guadalupe 
and  Rainbow  swam  across  the  sleepy  air,  far  and 
soft  and  dim. 

In  their  fields  the  gente  of  Gonzales  y 
Ortega  and  of  Escobar  raised  ample  crops  of 
alfalfa,  wheat,  corn,  frijoles  and  chili,  with  or 
chard,  vineyard  and  garden.  Their  cows,  sheep 
and  goats  grazed  the  foothills  between  river  and 
Rim,  watched  by  the  young  men  or  boys,  penned 
nightly  in  the  great  corrals  in  the  old  Spanish 
fashion;  as  if  the  Moor  still  swooped  and  forayed. 
Their  horses  roamed  the  hills  at  will,  only  a  few 
being  kept  in  the  alfalfa  pasture.  They  ground 
their  own  grain,  tanned  their  cow-hides  at  home. 
Mattress  and  pillow  were  wool  of  their  raising, 
their  blankets  and  cloth  their  own  weave.  .There 
were  granaries,  a  wine-press,  a  forge,  a  cumbrous 
stone  mill,  a  great  adobe  oven  like  a  monstrous 
bee-hive. 

Once  a  year  their  oxen  drew  the  great  high- 
sided  wagons  up  the  sandy  road  to  El  Paso,  and 
returned  with  the  year's  marketing — salt,  axes, 
iron  and  steel,  powder  and  lead,  bolts  of  white 
domestic  or  mania  for  sheets  and  shirtings, 
matches,  tea,  coffee,  tobacco  and  sugar.  Perhaps, 


THE  LAND  OF  AFTERNOON     209 

if  the  saints  had  been  kind,  there  were  a  few  rib 
bons,  trinkets  or  brightly  colored  prints  of  Joseph 
and  Virgin  and  Child,  St.  John  the  Beloved,  The 
Annunciation,  The  Children  and  Christ;  perhaps 
an  American  rifle  or  a  plow.  But,  for  the  most 
part,  they  held  not  with  innovations;  plowed, 
sowed  and  reaped  as  their  fathers  did,  threshing 
with  oxen  or  goats. 

The  women  sewed  by  hand,  cooked  on  fire 
places;  or,  better  still,  in  the  open  air  under  the 
trees,  with  few  and  simple  utensils.  The  family 
ate  from  whitest  and  cleanest  of  sheepskins  spread 
on  the  floor.  But,  the  walls  were  snowy  with  white 
wash,  the  earthen  floors  smooth  and  clean,  the 
coarse  linen  fresh  and  white.  The  scant  furniture 
of  the  rooms — a  pine  bed,  a  chair  or  two,  a  mirror, 
a  brass  candlestick  (with  home-made  candles),  a 
cheap  print  on  the  wall,  a  great  chest  for  clothes, 
blankets  and  simple  treasures,  the  bright  fire  in  the 
cozy  fireplace — all  combined  to  give  an  indescrib 
able  air  of  cheerfulness,  of  homely  comfort  and  of 
rest.  This  quiet  corner,  where  people  still  lived 
as  simply  as  when  Abraham  went  up  from  Ur  of 
the  Chaldees,  in  the  spring-time  of  the  world, 
held,  for  seeing  eyes,  an  incommunicable  charm. 

When  Jeff  came  at  last  to  Casa  Escobar,  the 
cattle  were  already  on  the  hills,  the  pigs  and 
chickens  far  afield.  Don  Francisco,  white-haired, 
erect,  welcomed  him  eagerly,  indeed,  but  with 
stately  courtesy 


2io  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"Is  it  thou  indeed,  my  son?  Now,  my  old 
eyes  are  gladdened  this  day.  Enter,  then,  amigo 
mio,  thrice-welcome — the  house  is  thine  in  very 
truth.  Nay,  the  young  men  shall  care  for  thy 
horse." 

He  raised  his  voice.  Three  tall  sons,  Abran, 
Zenobio,  Donociano,  came  at  the  summons,  gave 
Bransford  grave  greeting,  and  stood  to  await  their 
father's  commands.  Fathers  of  families  them 
selves,  they  presumed  not  to  sit  unbidden,  to  join 
in  the  conversation,  or  to  loiter. 

Breakfast  was  served  presently,  in  high  state,  on 
the  table  reserved  for  honored  guests.  Savory 
venison,  chile,  fish,  eggs,  tortillas,  etole,  enchiladas, 
cream  and  steaming  coffee — such  was  the  fare. 
Don  Francisco  sat  gravely  by  to  bear  him  com 
pany,  while  a  silently  hovering  damsel  anticipated 
every  need. 

Thence,  when  his  host  could  urge  no  more 
upon  him,  to  the  deep  shading  cottonwoods. 
Wine  was  brought  and  the  "  makings  "  of  ciga 
rettes — corn-husks,  handcut;  a  great  jar  of  to 
bacco;  and  a  brazier  of  mesquite  embers.  At  a 
little  distance  women  washed,  wove  or  sewed;  the 
young  men  made  buckskin,  fashioned  quirts,  whips, 
ropes,  bridle-reins,  tie-straps,  hobbles,  pack-sacks 
and  chaparejos  of  raw-hide;  made  cinches  of 
horse-hair;  wrought  ox-yokes,  plow-beams  and 
other  things  needful  for  their  simple  hus 
bandry. 


THE  LAND  OF  AFTERNOON     211 

Meanwhile,  Don  Francisco  entertained  his 
guest  with  grave  and  leisurely  recital  of  the  year's 
annals.  Mateo,  son  of  Sebastian,  had  slain  3 
great  bear  in  the  Pass  of  All  the  Winds;  Alicia, 
daughter  of  their  eldest,  was  wed  with  young 
Roman  de  la  O,  of  Canada  Nogales,  to  the  much 
healing  of  feud  and  ancient  hatred;  Diego,  son  of 
Eusebio,  was  proving  a  bold  and  fearless  rider  of 
wild  horses,  with  reason,  as  behooved  his  father's 
son ;  he  had  carried  away  the  gallo  at  the  Fiesta 
de  San  Juan,  with  the  fleet  dun  colt  "  creased  " 
from  the  wild  bunch  at  Quemado ;  the  herds  had 
grown,  the  crops  prospered,  all  sorrow  passed 
them  by,  through  the  intercession  of  the  blessed 
saints. 

The  year's  trophies  were  brought.  He  fin 
gered  with  simple  pride  the  great  pelt  of  the  silver- 
tip.  Antlers  there  were  and  lion-skins,  gleaming 
prisms  of  quartz,  flint  arrowheads  and  agates 
brought  in  by  the  shepherds,  the  costly  Navajo 
blanket  won  by  the  fleet-limbed  dun  at  Canada 
races. 

Hither  came  presently  another  visitor — Flo 
rentine,  breaker  of  wild  horses,  despite  his  fifty 
years;  wizened  and  withered  and  small,  merry  and 
cheerful,  singer  of  forgotten  folk-songs;  chanting, 
even  as  he  came,  the  song  of  Macario  Romero — 
Macario,  riding  joyous  and  light-hearted,  spite  of 
warning,  omen  and  sign,  love-lured  to  doom  and 
death. 


212  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"  '  Concedame  una  licencia 

Voy  a  ir  a  ver  a  me  Chata.' 

"  Dice  Macario  Romero, 

Parando  en  los  estribos: 
*  Madre,  pues,  esto  voy  a  ver, 
Si  todos  son  mis  amigos! ' J 

And  so,  listening,  weary  and  outworn,  Jeff  fell 
asleep. 

Observe  now,  how  Nature  insists  upon  aver 
ages.  Mr.  Jeff  Bransford  was,  as  has  been  seen, 
an  energetic  man;  but  outraged  nerves  will  have 
their  revenge.  After  making  proper  amends  to 
his  damaged  eye,  Jeff's  remnant  of  energy  kept  up 
long  enough  to  dispatch  young  Tomas  Escobar 
y  Mendoza  to  El  Paso  with  a  message  to  Hibler: 
which  message  enjoined  Hibler  at  once  to  carry 
tidings  to  John  Wesley  Pringle,  somewhere  in 
Chihuahua,  asking  him  kindly  to  set  right  what 
Arcadian  times  were  out  of  joint,  as  he,  Jeff,  felt 
the  climate  of  Old  Mexico  more  favorable  for 
his  throat  trouble  than  that  of  New  Mexico ;  with 
a  postscript  asking  Hibler  for  money  by  bearer. 
And  young  Tomas  was  instructed  to  buy,  at 
Juarez,  a  complete  outfit  of  clothing  for  Jeff,  in 
cluding  a  gun. 

This  done,  the  reaction  set  in — aided,  perhaps, 
by  the  enervating  lassitude  of  the  hot  baths  and 
the  sleepy  atmosphere  of  that  forgotten  village. 
Jeff  spent  the  better  part  of  a  week  asleep,  or  half 


THE  LAND  OF  AFTERNOON     213 

awake  at  best.  He  had  pleasant  dreams,  too. 
One — perhaps  the  best  dream  of  all — was  that 
on  their  wedding  trip  they  should  follow  again 
the  devious  line  of  his  flight  from  Arcadia.  That 
would  need  a  prairie  schooner — no,  a  prairie 
steamboat — a  prairie  yacht!  He  would  tell  her 
all  the  hideous  details — show  her  the  mine,  the 
camp  of  the  besiegers,  the  ambuscade  on  the  road. 
And  if  he  could  have  Ellinor  meet  Griffith  and 
Gibson  for  a  crowning  touch ! 

After  the  strenuous  violence  of  hand-strokes, 
here  was  a  drowsy  and  peaceful  time.  The  wine  of 
that  land  was  good,  the  shade  pleasant,  the  Alician 
philosophy  more  delightful  than  of  yore;  he  had 
all  the  accessories,  but  one,  of  an  earthly  paradise. 

Man  is  ungrateful.  Jeff  was  a  man ;  neglectful 
of  present  bounties,  his  dreaming  thoughts  were 
all  of  the  absent  accessory  and  of  a  time  when  that 
absence  should  be  no  more,  nor  paradise  be  empty. 

Life,  like  the  Gryphon's  classical  master,  had 
taught  him  Laughter  and  Grief.  He  turned  now 
the  forgotten  pages  of  the  book  of  his  years. 
Enough  black  pages  were  there;  as  you  will  know 
well,  having  yourself  searched  old  records  before 
now,  with  tears.  He  cast  up  that  long  account — 
the  wasted  lendings,  the  outlawed  debts,  the  dis* 
honored  promises,  the  talents  of  his  stewardship, 
unprofitable  and  brought  to  naught;  set  down — 
how  gladly ! — the  items  on  the  credit  side.  So  men 
have  set  the  good  upon  one  side  and  the  evil  on 


214  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

the  other  since  Crusoe's  day,  and  before;  against 
the  time  when  the  Great  Accountant,  Whose 
values  are  not  ours,  shall  strike  a  final  balance. 

Take  that  book  at  your  elbow — yes,  either  one ; 
it  doesn't  matter.  Now  turn  to  where  the  hero 
first  discovers  his  frightful  condition — long  after 
it  has  become  neighborhood  property.  .  .  .  He 
bent  his  head  in  humility.  He  was  not  worthy  of 
her!  .  .  .  Something  like  that?  Those  may  not 
be  the  precise  words ;  but  he  groaned.  He  always 
groans.  By-the-way,  how  this  man-saying  must 
amuse  womankind!  Yes,  and  they  actually  say 
it  too — real,  live,  flesh-and-blood  men.  Who  was 
it  said  life  was  a  poor  imitation  of  literature? 
Happily,  either  these  people  are  insincere  or  they 
reconsider  the  matter — else  what  should  we  do  for 
families? 

It  is  to  be  said  that  Jeff  Bransford  lacked  this 
becoming  delicacy.  If  he  groaned  he  swore  also ; 
if  he  decided  that  Miss  Ellinor  Hoffman  deserved 
a  better  man  than  he  was,  he  also  highly  resolved 
that  she  should  not  have  him. 

"  For,  after  all,  you  know,"  said  Jeff  to  Alice: 

"  I'm  sure  he's  nothing  extra — a  quiet  man  and  plain, 
And  modest — though  there  isn't  much  of  which  he  could 

be  vain. 
And    had  I  mind  to  chant  his  praise,  this  were  the 

kindest  line — 
Somehow,   she  loves  him  dearly — this  little  love  of 

mine! " 


CHAPTER  XVII 
TWENTIETH 


"And  there  that  hulking  Prejudice 
Sat  all  across  the  road. 

I  took  my  hat,  I  took  my  coat, 

My  load  I  settled  fair, 
I  approached  that  awful  incubus 

With  an  absent-minded  air  — 
And  I  walked  directly  through  him 
As  if  he  wasn't  there  !  " 

—  An  Obstacle: 
CHARLOTTE  PERKINS  STETSON. 

JOHNNY  DINES  rode  with  a  pleasant  jingle 
down  the  shady  street  of  Los  Bafios  de  Santa 
Eulalia  del  Norte.  His  saddle  was  new,  carven, 
wrought  with  silver;  his  bridle  shone  as  the  sun, 
his  spurs  as  bright  stars;  he  shed  music  from  his 
feet.  Jeff  saw  him  turn  to  Casa  Escobar:  apple 
blossoms  made  a  fragrant  lane  for  him.  He 
paused  at  Jeff's  tree. 

"  Alto  alii!  "  said  Johnny.  The  words,  as 
sharp  command,  can  be  managed  in  two  brisk 
syllables.  The  sound  is  then  :  "  Altwai!  "  It  is 
a  crisp  and  startling  sound,  and  the  sense  of  it  in 
our  idiom  is:  "  Hands  up  I  " 

215 


2 1 6*  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

Jeff  had  been  taking  a  late  breakfast  al  fresco; 
he  made  glad  room  on  his  bench. 

"Light,  stranger,  and  look  at  your  saddle! 
Pretty  slick  saddle,  too.  Guess  your  playmates 
must  'a'  went  home  talking  to  themselves  last 
night." 

"  They're  going  to  kill  a  maverick  for  you  at 
Arcadia  and  give  a  barbecue,"  said  Johnny.  The 
cult  of  nil  admirari  reaches  its  highest  pitch  of 
prosperity  in  the  cow-countries,  and  Johnny  knew 
that  it  was  for  him  to  broach  tidings  unasked. 

"  Oh,  that  reminds  me — how's  old  Lars  Por- 
sena?  "  said  Jeff,  now  free  to  question. 

"  Him?  He's  all  right,"  said  Johnny  casually. 
'*  Goin'  to  marry  one  or  more  of  the  nurses. 
They're  holdin'  elimination  contests  now." 

"  Say,  Johnny,  when  you  go  back,  I  wish  you'd 
tell  him  I  didn't  do  it.  Cross  my  heart  and  hope 
to  die  if  I  did!" 

"  Oh,  he  knows  it  wasn't  you !  "  said  Johnny. 

Jeff  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"Evidence  was  pretty  strong — pretty  strong! 
Who  was  it  then  ?" 

"  Why,  Lake  himself— the  old  hog!  " 

"  If  Lake  keeps  on  like  this  he's  going  to  hav& 
people  down  on  him,"  said  Jeff.  "  Who  did  the 
holmesing — John  Wesley?" 

"Oh,  John  Wesley!  John  Wesley!"  said 
Dines  scornfully.  "  You  think  the  sun  rises  and 
sets  in  old  John  Wesley  Pringle.  Naw ;  he  didn't 


TWENTIETH  CENTURY         217 

get  back  till  it  was  all  over.  I  cannot  tell  a  lie. 
I  did  it  with  my  little  hatchet!  " 

"  Must  have  had  it  sharpened  up!  "  said  Jeff. 
'"Tell  it  to  me!" 

"  Why,  there  isn't  much  to  tell,"  said  Dines, 
suddenly  modest.  "  Come  to  think  of  it,  I  had 
right  considerable  help.  There  was  a  young  col 
lege  chap — he  first  put  it  into  my  head  that  it 
wasn't  you." 

"  That  would  be  the  devil?  "  said  Jeff,  ignoring 
the  insult. 

"Just  so.  Name's  White — and  so's  he:  Billy 
White,  S.  M.  and  G.  P." 

"  I  don't  just  remember  them  degrees,"  said 
Jeff. 

"  Aw,  keep  still  and  you'll  hear  more.  They 
stand  for  Some  Man  and  Good  People.  Well, 
as  I  was  a-saying,  Billy  he  seemed  to  think  it 
wasn't  you.  He  stuck  to  it  that  Buttinski — that's 
what  he  calls  you — was  in  a  garden  just  when  the 
bank  was  robbed." 

Johnny  contemplated  the  apple  tree  over  his 
head.  It  was  a  wandering  and  sober  glance,  but 
a  muscle  twitched  in  his  cheek,  and  he  made  no 
further  explanation  about  the  garden. 

"  And  then  I  remembered  about  Nigger  Babe 
throwin'  you  off,  and  I  began  to  think  maybe  you 
didn't  crack  the  safe  after  all.  And  there  was 
some  other  things — little  things — that  made  Billy 
and  Jimmy  Phillips — he  was  takin'  cards  in  the 


2i 8  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

game  too — made  'em  think  maybe  it  was  Lake; 
but  it  wasn't  no  proof — not  to  say  proof.  And 
there's  where  I  come  in." 

"  Well?"  said  Jeff,  as  Johnny  paused. 

"  Simple  enough,  once  you  knowed  how,"  said 
Johnny  modestly.  "  I'd  been  reading  lots  of  them 
detective  books — Sherlock  Holmes  and  all  them 
fellows.  I  got  Billy  to  have  his  folks  toll  Lake's 
sister  away  for  the  night,  so  she  wouldn't  be 
scared.  Then  me  and  Billy  and  Jimmy  Phillips 
and  Monte,  we  broke  in  and  blowed  up  Lake's 
private  safe.  No  trouble  at  all.  Since  the  bank- 
robbin'  every  one  had  been  tellin'  round  just  how 
it  ought  to  be  done — crackin'  safes.  Funny  how  a 
fellow  picks  up  little  scraps  of  useful  knowledge 
like  that — things  you'd  think  he'd  remember 
might  come  in  handy  most  any  time — and  then 
forgets  all  about  'em.  I  wrote  it  down  this  time. 
Won't  forget  it  again." 

"Well?"  said  Jeff  again. 

"  Oh,  yes.  And  there  was  the  nice  money — • 
all  the  notes  and  all  of  the  gold  he  could 
tote." 

Jeff's  eye  wandered  to  the  new  saddle. 

"  I  kept  some  of  the  yellow  stuff  as  a  souvenir 
— half  a  quart,  or  maybe  a  pint,"  said  Johnny. 
"  I  don't  want  no  reward  for  doin'  a  good  deed. 
.  .  .  And  that's  all." 

"  Lake  is  a  long,  ugly  word,"  said  Jeff  thought 
fully. 


TWENTIETH  CENTURY         219 

"  Well,  what  do  you  say?  "  prompted  Johnny. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you !  "  said  Jeff.  "  You 
showed  marvelous  penetration — marvelous!  But 
say,  Johnny,  if  the  money  hadn't  been  there 
wouldn't  that  have  been  awkward?  " 

"  Oh,  Billy  was  pretty  sure  Lake  was  the  man. 
And  we  figured  he  hadn't  bothered  to  move  it — 
you  being  the  goat  that  way.  What  made  you 
be  a  goat,  Jeff?  That  whole  performance  was 
the  most  idiotic  break  I  ever  knew  a  grown-up 
man  to  get  off.  I  knew  you  were  not  strictly 
accountable,  but  why  didn't  you  say,  *  Judge,  your 
Honor,  sir,  at  the  time  the  bank  was  being 
robbed  I  was  in  a  garden  with  a  young  lady,  talk 
ing  about  the  hereafter,  the  here  and  the  here 
tofore?  '  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  what  made  your  Billy  think 
it  was  Lake?  " 

Johnny  told  him,  in  detail. 

"  Pretty  good  article  of  plain  thinking,  wasn't 
it?"  he  concluded.  "Yet  he  mightn't  have  got 
started  on  the  right  track  at  all  if  he  hadn't  had 
the  straight  tip  about  your  bein'  in  a  garden." 
Johnny's  eye  reverted  to  the  apple  tree.  "  Lake 
found  your  noseguard,  you  know,  where  you  left 
it.  I  reckon  maybe  he  saw  you  leave  it  there. — 
Say,  Jeff!  Lake's  grandfather  must  have  been  a 
white  man.  Anyhow,  he's  got  one  decent  drop 
of  blood  in  him,  from  somewhere,  For  when  we 
arrested  him,  he  didn't  say  a  word  about  the 


220  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

garden.  That  was  rather  a  good  stunt,  I  thinE 
Bully  for  Lake,  just  once !  " 

"  Right  you  are !  And,  Mr.  J.  Dines,  I've  been 
thinking "  Jeff  began. 

Johnny  glanced  at  him  anxiously. 

" and  I've  about  come  to  the  conclusion 

that  we're  some  narrow  contracted  and  bigoted 
on  Rainbow.  We  don't  know  it  all.  We  ain't  the 
only  pebble.  From  what  I've  seen  of  these  Ar 
cadia  men  they  seem  to  be  pretty  good  stuff — and 
like  as  not  it's  just  the  same  way  all  along  the 
beach.  There's  your  Mr.  White,  and  Griffith,  and 
Gibson — did  I  tell  you  about  Gibson?" 

Johnny  flashed  a  brilliant  smile.  His  smiles 
always  looked  larger  than  they  really  were,  be 
cause  Johnny  was  a  very  small  man. 

"  I  saw  Griffith  and  he  gave  me  his  version — 
several  times.  He's  real  upset,  Griffith.  .  .  . 
Last  time  he  told  me,  he  leaned  up  against  my 
neck  and  wept  because  there  was  only  ten  com 
mandments  1  " 

"  Didn't  see  Gibson,  did  you?  You  lyiow 
him?" 

"  Nope.  Pappy  picked  him  up — or  he  picked 
Pappy  up,  rather.  Hasn't  been  seen  since.  I 
guess  Gibby,  old  boy,  has  gone  to  the  wild  bunch. 
He  wouldn't  suspect  you  of  bein'  innocent,  and  he 
dreamed  he  dwelt  in  marble  walls,  makin'  shoes 
for  the  state.  So  he  gets  cold  feet  and  he  just 
naturally  evaporates — good  night !  " 


TWENTIETH  CENTURY         221 

"  Yes — he  said  he  was  going  to  hike  out,  or 
something  to  that  effect,"  responded  Jeff  absently 
— the  fact  being  that  he  was  not  thinking  of 
Gibson,  at  all,  but  was  pondering  deeply  upon 
Miss  Ellinor  Hoffman.  Had  she  gone  to  New 
York  according  to  the  original  plan?  It  did  not 
seem  probable.  Her  face  stood  out  before  him — 
bright,  vivid,  sparkling,  as  he  had  seen  her  last, 
in  the  court  room  of  Arcadia.  Good  heavens! 
Wag  that  only  a  week  ago?  Seven  days?  It 
seemed  seven  years! — No — she  had  not  gone — 
at  least,  certainly  not  until  she  was  sure  that  he, 
Jeff,  had  made  good  his  escape.  Then,  perhaps, 
she  might  have  gone.  Perhaps  her  mother  had 
made  her  go.  Oh,  well  I — New  York  wasn't  far, 
as  he  had  told  her  that  first  wonderful  day  on 
Rainbow  Rim.  What  a  marvelous  day  that 
was! 

Jeff  was  suddenly  struck  with  the  thought  that 
he  had  never  seen  Ellinor's  mother.  Great  Scott! 
She  had  a  father,  too!  How  annoying!  He 
meditated  upon  this  unpleasant  theme  for  a  space. 
Then,  as  if  groping  in  a  dark  room,  he  had  sud 
denly  turned  on  the  light,  his  thought  changed  to 
— What  a  girl!  Ah,  what  a  wonderful  girl! 
Where  is  she? 

Looking  up,  Jeff  became  once  more  aware  of 
Johnny  Dines,  leg  curled  around  the  horn  of  the 
new  saddle,  elbow  on  knee,  cheek  on  hand,  con 
templating  his  poor  friend  with  benevolent  pity. 


222  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

And  then  Jeff  knew  that  he  could  make  no  queries 
of  Johnny  Dines. 

Johnny  spake  soothingly. 

"You  are  in  North  America.  This  is  the 
Twentieth  Century.  Your  name  is  Bransford. 
That  round  bright  object  is  the  sun.  This  direc 
tion  is  East.  This  way  is  called  '  up.'  This  is 
a  stream  of  water  that  you  see.  It  is  called  the 
Rio  River  Grand  Big.  We  are  advertised  by 
our  loving  friends.  I  cannot  sing  the  old  songs. 
There's  a  reason.  Two  of  a  kind  flock  together. 
Never  trump  your  pardner's  ace.  It's  a  wise 
child  that  dreads  the  fire.  Wake  up !  Come  out 
of  it!  Change  cars!  " 

"  I  ought  to  kill  you,"  said  Jeff.  "  Now  giggle, 
you  idiot,  and  make  everybody  hate  you ! — Wait 
till  I  say  Adios  to  my  old  compadre  and  the  rest 
of  the  Escobar  gente  and  I'll  side  you  to  El 
Paso." 

"  Not  I.  Little  Johnny,  he'll  make  San  Elizario 
ferry  by  noon  and  Helm's  by  dark.  Thought 
maybe  so  you'd  be  going  along." 

"  Why,  no,"  said  Jeff  uneasily.  "  I  guess  may 
be  I'll  go  up  to  El  Paso  and  June  around  a  spell." 

"  Oh,  well — just  as  you  say  I  Such  bein'  the 
case,  I'll  be  jogging." 

"  Better  wait  till  after  dinner — I'll  square  it 
with  Don  Francisco  if  ...  anything's  missing." 

"  No — that  makes  too  long  a  jaunt  for  this 
afternoon.  Me  for  San  Elizario.  So  long!  " 


TWENTIETH  CENTJURY,         223 

But  beyond  the  first  acequia  he  turned  and  rode 
back. 

"  Funny  thing,  Jeff !  Remember  me  telling  you 
about  a  girl  I  saw  on  Mayhill,  the  day  Nigger 
Babe  throwed  you  off?  Now,  what  was  that 
girl's  name? — I've  forgotten  again.  Oh,  yes! — 
Hoffman — Miss  Ellinor  Hoffman.  Well — she's 
at  Arcadia  still.  The  mother  lady  was  all  for 
going  back  to  New  York — but,  no,  sir !  Girl  says 
she's  twenty-one,  likes  Arcadia,  and  she's  going 
to  stay  a  spell.  Leastwise,  so  I  hear." 

"  I  will  kill  you !  "  said  Jeff.  "  Here,  wait  till 
I  saddle  my  nag  and  say  good-by." 

Beyond  San  Elizario,  as  they  climbed  the  Pass 
of  All  the  Winds,  the  two  friends  halted  to 
breathe  their  horses. 

"  Jeff,"  said  Johnny,  rather  soberly,  "  you  can 
kick  me  after  I  say  my  little  piece — I'll  think 
poorly  of  you  if  you  don't — but  ain't  you  making 
maybe  a  mistake  ?  That  girl,  now — nice  girl,  and 
all  that — but  that  girl's  got  money,  Jeff." 

"  I  hate  a  fool  worse  than  a  knave,  any  day  in 
the  week,"  said  Jeff :  "  and  the  man  that  would 
let  money  keep  him  from  the  only  girl — why, 
Johnny,  he's  so  much  more  of  a  fool  than  the 
other  fellow  is  a  scoundrel " 

"  I  get  you !  "  said  Johnny.  "  You  mean  that 
a  submarine  boat  is  better  built  for  roping  steers 
than  a  mogul  engine  is  skilful  at  painting  steeples, 


224  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

and  you  wonder  if  you  can't  get  a  fresh  horse 
somewhere  and  go  on  through  to  Arcadia 
to-night?" 

"  Something  like  that,"  admitted  Jeff.  "  Be 
sides,"  he  added  lightly,  "  while  I'd  like  that  girl 
just  as  well  if  I  didn't  have  a  cent — why,  as  it 
happens,  I'm  pretty  well  fixed,  myself.  I've  got 
money  to  throw  at  the  little  dicky-birds — all  kinds 
of  money.  Got  a  fifty-one-per-cent  interest  in  a 
copper  mine  over  in  Harqua  Hala  that's  been 
payin'  me  all  the  way  from  ten  to  five  thousand 
clear  per  each  and  every  year  for  the  last  seven 
years,  besides  what  I  pay  a  lad  for  lookout  to 
keep  anybody  but  himself  from  stealing  any  of  it. 
He's  been  buyin'  real  estate  for  me  in  Los  Angeles 
lately." 

Johnny's  jaw  dropped  in  unaffected  amazement. 

"All  this  while?  Before  you  and  Leo  hit 
Rainbow?  " 

"Sure!"  said  Jeff. 

"  And  you  workin'  for  forty  a  month  and 
stealin'  your  own  beef? — then  saving  up  and  buy 
ing  your  little  old  brand  along  with  Beebe  and 
Leo  and  old  Wes',  joggin'  along,  workin'  like  a 
yaller  dog  with  fleas?" 

;<  Why  not?  Wasn't  I  having  a  heap  of  fun? 
Where  can  I  see  any  better  time  than  I  had  here, 
or  find  better  friends?  Money's  no  good  by  it 
self.  I  haven't  drawn  a  dollar  from  Arizona  since 
I  left.  It  was  fun  to  make  the  mine  go  round 


TWENTIETH  CENTURY         225 

at  first;  but  when  it  got  so  it'd  work  I  looked  for 
something  else  more  amusing." 

"  I  should  think  you'd  want  to  travel,  anyhow." 

"Travel?"  echoed  Jeff.  "Travel?  Why, 
you  damn  fool,  I'm  here  now!  " 

"  Will  you  stay  here,  if  you  marry  her,  Jeff?  " 

"  So  you've  no  objection  to  make,  if  I've  got  a 
few  dollars?  That  squares  everything  all  right, 
does  it?  Not  a  yeep  of  protest  from  you  now? 
See  here,  you  everlasting  fool !  I'm  just  the  same 
man  I  was  fifteen  minutes  ago  when  you  thought 
I  didn't  have  any  money.  If  I'm  fit  for  her  now, 
I  was  then.  If  I  wasn't  good  enough  then,  I'm 
not  good  enough  now." 

"  But  I  wasn't  thinking  of  her — I  was  thinking 
of — how  it  would  look." 

"Look?  Who  cares  how  it  looks?  Just  a 
silly  prejudice !  '  They  say — what  say  they — let 
them  say !  '  Johnny,  maybe  I  was  just  stringin' 
you.  If  I  was  lying  about  the  money — how  about 
it  then?  Changed  your  mind  again?  " 

"  You  wasn't  lyin',  was  you?  " 

"  Shan't  tell  you!  It  doesn't  really  make  any 
difference,  anyhow." 


'AT  THE  RAINBOW'S  END 

"Helen's  lips  are  drifting  dust; 
Ilion  is  consumed  with  rust; 
All  the  galleons  of  Greece 
Drink  the  ocean's  dreamless  peace; 
Lost  was  Solomon's  purple  show 
Restless  centuries  ago; 
Stately  empires  wax  and  wane — 
Babylon,  Barbary  and  Spain — 
Only  one  thing,  undefaced, 
Lasts,  though  all  the  worlds  lie  waste 
And  the  heavens  are  overturned, 
—Dear,  how  long  ago  we  learned ! '' 

— FREDERICK  LAWRENCE  KNOWLES. 

STARLIT  and  moonlight  leagues,  the  slow, 
fresh  dawn ;  in  the  cool  of  the  morning,  Brans- 
ford  came  to  the  crest  of  the  ground-swell  known 
as  Frenchman's  Ridge,  and  saw  low-lying  Arcadia 
dim  against  the  north,  a  toy  town  huddling  close 
to  the  shelter  of  Rainbow  Range;  he  splashed 
through  the  shallow  waters  of  Alamo,  failing  to 
a  trickle  before  it  sank  in  the  desert  sands;  and 
so  came  at  last  to  the  moat  of  Arcadia.  With 
•what  joyous  and  eager-choking  heart-beat  you 
may  well  guess:  not  the  needlessness  of  those 
swift  pulses  or  of  that  joy.  For  Ellinor  was  not 
there.  With  Mrs.  Hoffman,  she  had  gone  to 

226 


AT  THE  RAINBOW'S  END        227 

visit  the  Sutherlands  at  Rainbow's  End.  And  Jeff 
could  not  go  on.  Arcadia  rose  to  greet  him  in  im 
promptu  Roman  holiday. 

Poor  Bransford  has  never  known  clearly  what 
chanced  on  that  awful  day.  There  is  a  jumbled, 
whirling  memory  of  endless  kaleidoscopic  troops 
of  joyful  Arcadians :  Billy  White,  Monte,  Jimmy, 
Clarke,  the  grim-smiling  sheriff,  the  judge.  It 
was  dimly  borne  upon  him  by  one  or  both  of  the 
two  last,  that  there  were  yet  certain  formalities  to 
be  observed  in  the  matter  of  his  escape  from  cus 
tody  of  the  Law  and  of  the  horse  he  had  bor 
rowed  from  the  court  house  square.  Indeed,  it 
seemed  to  Jeff,  in  a  hazy  afterthought,  that  per 
haps  the  sheriff  had  arrested  him  again.  If  so,  it 
had  slipped  Jeff's  mind,  swallowed  up  in  a  grue 
some  horror  of  congratulations,  hand-shakings, 
back-slappings,  badinage  and  questions;  heaped 
on  a  hero  heartsick,  dazed  and  dumb.  Pleading 
weariness,  he  tore  himself  away  at  last,  almost  by 
violence,  and  flung  himself  down  in  a  darkened 
bedroom  of  the  Arcadian  Atalanta. 

One  thing  was  clear.  Headlight  was  there, 
Aforesaid  Smith,  Madison:  but  his  nearest 
friends,  Pringle,  Beebe  and  Ballinger,  though  they 
had  hasted  back  to  Arcadia  to  fight  Jeff's  battles, 
were  ostentatiously  absent  from  his  hollow  and 
hateful  triumph:  Johnny  Dines  had  pointedly  re 
fused  to  share  his  night  ride  from  Helm's :  and 
Jeff  knew  why,  sadly  enough.  The  gods  take  pay 


228  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

for  the  goods  they  give:  and  now  that  goodly 
fellowship  was  broken.  The  thought  clung  fast: 
it  haunted  his  tossing  and  troubled  slumbers, 
where  Ellinor  came  through  a  sunset  glow,  swift- 
footed  to  meet  him:  where  his  friends  rode  slow 
and  silent  into  the  glimmering  dusk,  smaller  and 
smaller,  black  against  the  sky. 

The  Sutherland  place  made  an  outer  corner  of 
Rainbow's  End,  bowered  about  by  a  double  row 
of  close  and  interlaced  cottonwoods  on  two  sides, 
by  vigorous  orchards  on  the  other  two. 

The  house  had  once  been  a  one-storied  adobe, 
heroically  proportioned,  thick-walled,  cool  against 
summer,  warm  in  what  went  by  the  name  of  win 
ter.  The  old-time  princely  hospitality  was  un 
changed,  but  Sutherland  had  bought  lots  in  Ar 
cadia  of  early  days;  and  now,  the  old  gray  walls 
of  the  house  were  smooth  with  creamy  stucco^ 
wrought  of  gypsum  from  the  White  Sands;  thv 
windows  were  widened  and  there  was  a  super 
imposed  story,  overhanging,  wide  and  low.  Th^ 
gables  were  double-windowed,  shingled  and 
stained  nut-brown,  the  gently  sloping  roof 
shingled,  dormered  and  soft  green:  the  overflow 
projecting  to  broad  verandas  on  either  side,  very 
like  an  umbrella :  a  bungalow  with  two  birthdays 
—1866  :  1896. 

Miss  Ellinor  Hoffman  had  deserted  veranda, 
rocking-chair  and  hammock.  With  a  sewing  bas- 


AT  THE  RAINBOW'S  END        229 

ket  beside  her,  she  sat  on  a  pine  bench  under  a 
cottonwood  of  1867,  ostensibly  basting  together 
a  kimono  tinted  like  a  dripping  sea  shell,  and  faced 
with  peach-blossom. 

The  work  went  slowly.  Her  seat  was  at  the 
desert  corner  of  the  homestead  which  was  itself 
the  desert  outpost  of  a  desert  town :  and  her  blood 
stirred  to  these  splendid  horizons.  The  mys 
terious  desert  scoffed  and  questioned,  drew  her 
with  promise  of  strange  joys  and  strange  griefs. 
[The  iron-hard  mountains  beckoned  and  challenged 
from  afar,  wove  her  their  spells  of  wavering 
lights  and  shadows;  the  misty  warp  and  woof  of 
them  shifting  to  swift  fantastic  hues  of  trembling 
rose  and  blue  and  violet,  half-veiling,  half-reveal 
ing,  steeps  unguessed  and  dreamed-of  sheltered 
valleys — and  all  the  myriad-voice  of  moaning 
waste  and  world-rimming  hill  cried  "  Come !  " 

Faint,  fitful  undertone  of  drowsy  chords,  far 
pealing  of  elfin  bells;  that  was  pulsing  of  busy 
acequias,  tinkling  of  mimic  waterfalls.  The  clean 
breath  of  the  desert  crooned  by,  bearing  a  grateful 
fragrance  of  apple-blossoms  near;  it  rippled  the 
deepest  green  of  alfalfa  to  undulating  sheen  of 
purple  and  flashing  gold. 

The  broad  fields  were  dwarfed  to  play-garden 
prettiness  by  the  vastness  of  overwhelming  desert, 
to  right,  to  left,  before;  whose  nearer  blotches  of 
black  and  gray  and  brown  faded,  far  off,  to  a 
nameless  shimmer,  its  silent  leagues  dwindling  to 


230  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

immeasurable  blur,  merging  indistinguishable  in 
the  burning  sunset. 

"  East  by  up,"  overguarding  the  oasis,  the 
colossal  bulk  of  Rainbow  walled  out  the  world 
with  grim-tiered  cliffs,  cleft  only  by  the  deep- 
gashed  gates  of  Rainbow  Pass,  where  the  swift 
river  broke  through  to  the  rich  fields  of  Rain 
bow's  End,  bringing  fulfilment  of  the  fabled 
pot  of  gold — or,  unused,  to  shrink  and  fail  and 
die  in  the  thirsty  sand. 

Below,  the  whilom  channel  wandered  forlorn — 
Rainbow  no  longer,  but  Lost  River — to  a  discon 
solate  delta,  waterless  save  as  infrequent  floods 
found  turbulent  way  to  the  Sink,  when  wild  horse 
and  antelope  revisited  their  old  haunts  for  the 
tender  green  luxury  of  these  brief,  belated  springs. 

Incidentally,  Miss  Hoffman's  outpost  com 
manded  a  good  view  of  Arcadia  road,  winding 
white  through  the  black  tar-brush.  Had  she 
looked,  she  might  have  seen  a  slow  horseman,  tiny 
on  the  bare  plain  below  the  tar-brush,  larger 
as  he  climbed  the  gentle  slope  along  that  white- 
winding  road. 

But  she  bent  industrious  to  her  work,  smiling 
to  herself,  half-singing,  half-humming  a  foolish 
and  lilry  little  tune : 

"A  tisket,  a  tasket — a  green  and  yellow  basket; 
I  wrote  a  letter  to  my  love  and  on  the  road  I  lost  it— 
I  crissed  it,  I  crossed  it — I  locked  it  in  a  casket; 
I  missed  it,  I  lost  it * 


AT  THE  RAINBOW'S  END        231 

And  here  Miss  Hoffman  did  an  unaccountable 
thing.  Wise  Penelope  unraveled  by  night  the 
work  she  wove  by  day.  Like  her  in  this,  Miss 
Ellinor  Hoffman  now  placidly  snipped  and  ripped 
the  basting  threads,  unraveled  them  patiently, 
and  set  to  work  afresh. 

"Now,  there's  no  such  thing  as  a  Ginko  tree; 
There  never  was — though  there  ought  to  be. 
And  'tis  also  true,  though  most  absurd, 
There's  no  such  thing  as  a  Wallabye  bird ! " 

Miss  Hoffman  was  all  in  white,  with  a  white 
middy  blouse  trimmed  in  scarlet,  a  scarlet  ribbon 
in  her  dark  hair:  a  fine-linked  gold  chain  showed 
at  her  neck.  A  very  pretty  picture  she  made,  cool 
and  fresh  against  the  deep  shade  and  the  green — 
but  of  course  she  did  not  know  it.  She  held  the 
shaping  kimono  at  arm's  length,  admiring  the  deli 
cate  color,  and  fell  to  work  again. 

"  Oh,  the  jolly  miller,  he  lives  by  himself! 
As  the  wheel  rolls  around  he  gathers  in  his  pelf, 
A  hand  in  the  hopper  and  another  in  the  bag — 
As  the  wheel  rolls  around  he  calls  out,  '  Grab! ' J 

So  intent  and  preoccupied  was  she,  that  she 
'did  not  hear  the  approaching  horse. 

"  Good  evening!  " 

"  Oh !  "  Miss  Hoffman  jumped,  dropping  the 
long-suffering  kimono.  A  horseman,  with  bared 
head,  had  reined  up  in  the  shaded  road  alongside. 


232  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"  How  silly  of  me  not  to  hear  you  coming!  If 
you're  looking  for  Mr.  Sutherland,  he's  not  here 
— Mr.  David  Sutherland,  that  is.  But  Mr.  Henry 
Sutherland  is  here — or  was  awhile  ago — maybe 
half  an  hour  since.  He  was  trying  to  get  up  a 
set  of  tennis.  Perhaps  they're  playing — over 
there  on  the  other  side  of  the  house.  And  yet, 
if  they  were  there,  we'd  hear  them  laughing — 
don't  you  think?" 

Mr.  Bransford — for  it  was  Mr.  Bransford, 
and  he  was  all  dressed  in  clothes — waited  with 
extreme  patience  for  the  conclusion  of  these  fever 
ish  and  hurried  remarks. 

"  But  I'm  not  looking  for  Sutherland.  I'm 
looking  for  you !  " 

"  Oh!  "  said  Ellinor  again.  Then,  after  a  long 
and  deliberate  survey,  the  light  of  recognition 
dawned  slowly  in  her  eyes.  "  Oh,  I  do  know  you, 

don't  I  ?  To  be  sure  I  do !  You're  Mr. the 

gentleman  I  met  on  Rainbow  Mountain,  near 
Mayhill,— Mr. — ah  yes— Bransford !  " 

"Why,  so  I  am!"  said  Jeff,  leaning  on  the 
saddle-horn.  One  half  of  Mr.  Bransford  won 
dered  if  he  had  not  been  making  a  fool  of  him 
self  and  taking  a  great  deal  for  granted:  the  other 
half,  though  considerably  alarmed,  was  not  at  all 
deceived. 

Miss  Ellinor  did  not  actually  put  her  finger  in 
the  corner  of  her  mouth — she  merely  looked 
as  if  she  had.  "Ah! — Won't  you get 


AT  THE  RAINBOW'S  END        233 

down?  "  she  said  helplessly.  "  What  a  beautiful 
horse!" 

"  Why,  yes — thank  you — I  believe  I  will." 

He  left  the  beautiful  horse  to  stand  with 
dangling  reins,  and  came  over  to  the  bench,  silent 
and  rather  grim. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down?  "  said  Ellinor  politely. 
"Fine  day,  isn't  it?" 

"  It's  a  wonderful  day — a  marvelous  day — a 
stupendous  day!"  said  this  exasperated  young 
man.  "  No,  I  guess  it's  not  worth  while  to  sit 
down.  I  just  wanted  to  find  out  where  you  lived. 
I  asked  you  once  before,  you  know,  and  you  didn't 
tell  me." 

"  Didn't  I  ?  Oh,  do  sit  down !  You  look  so 
grumpy — tired,  I  mean."  Rather  grudgingly,  she 
swept  the  sewing  basket  from  the  bench  to  the 
grass. 

Jeff's  eyes  followed  the  action.  He  saw — if  you 
call  it  seeing — the  snipped  threads  on  the  grass, 
the  yet  unpicked  bastings,  white  against  the  peach- 
pink  facing;  but  he  was  a  mere  man,  hardly-cir 
cumstanced,  and  these  eloquent  tidings  were 
wasted  upon  his  clumsy  intellect:  as  had  been  the 
surprising  good  fortune  of  finding  Miss  Ellinor 
exactly  where  she  was. 

Nerving  himself  with  memory  of  the  Quaker 
Lady  at  the  masquerade — if,  indeed,  that  had  ever 
really  happened — Jeff  took  the  offered  seat. 

The  young  lady  matched  two  edges  together, 


234  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

smoothed  them,  eyed  the  result  critically,  and 
plied  a  nimble  needle.  Then  she  turned  clear  and 
guileless  eyes  on  her  glooming  seatmate. 

"  You  look  older,  somehow,  than  I  thought  you 
were,  now  that  I  remember,"  she  observed,  bit 
ing  the   thread.     "You've  been    away,   haven't' 
you?" 

"  Thought  you  were  going  away,  yourself,  so 
wild  and  fierce?  "  said  Jeff,  evading. — Been  away, 
indeed! 

Ellinor  threaded  her  needle. 

"  Mamma  was  talking  of  going  for  a  while," 
she  said  tranquilly.  "  But  I'm  rather  glad  we 
didn't.  We're  having  a  splendid  time  here — and 
Mr.  White's  going  to  take  us  to  the  White  Sands 
next  week.  He'll  be  down  to-morrow — at  least 
I  think  so.  He's  fine !  He  took  us  to  Mescalero 
early  in  the  spring.  And  the  young  people  here 
at  Rainbow's  End  are  simply  delightful.  You 
must  meet  some  of  them.  Listen!  There  they 
are  now — I  hear  them.  They  are  playing  tennis. 
•Come  on  up  and  I'll  introduce  you.  I  can  finish 
this  thing  any  time."  She  tossed  the  poor  kimono 
into  the  basket. 

"  No,"  said  this  unhappy  young  man,  rising. 
"  I  believe  I'll  go  on  back.  Good-by,  Miss 
Ell — Miss  Hoffman.  I  wish  you  much  happi 
ness!  " 

'Why — surely  you're  not  going  now?    There 
are  some  nice  girls  here — they  have  heard  so  much 


AT  THE  RAINBOW'S  END        235 

of  you,  but  they  say  they've  never  met  you.  Don't 
you  want " 

Jeff  groaned,  fumbling  blindly  at  the  bridle. 
"  No,  I  wish  I'd  never  seen  a  girl!  " 

"Why-y!  That's  not  very  polite,  is  it? 

Are — are  you — mad  to  me?"  said  Ellinor  in  a 
meek  little  voice. 

"Mad?  No,"  said  Jeff  bitterly.  "I'm  just 
coming  to  my  senses.  I've  been  dreaming.  Now 
I've  woke  up !  " 

"  Angry,  I  mean,  of  course.  I  just  say  it  that 
way — '  are  you  mad  to  me  ' — sometimes — to  be — 
to  be — nice,  Mr.  Bransford!  " 

"  You  needn't  bother !     Good-by  1  " 

"  But  I'll  see  you  again " 

"Never!" 

" when  you're  not  so — cross?" 

Jeff  reached  for  his  stirrup. 

"Oh,  well!  If  you're  going  to  be  huffy! 
Never  it  is,  then,  by  all  means!  No — wait!  I 
must  give  you  back  your  present." 

"  I  have  never  given  you  a  present.  Some  other 
man,  doubtless.  You  should  keep  a  list!  "  said 
Jeff,  with  bitter  and  cutting  scorn. 

The  girl  turned  half  away  from  him  and  hid 
her  face  with  trembling  hands;  her  shoulders 
shook  with  emotion. 

"Look  the  other  way,  sir!  Turn  your  head! 
You  shall  have  your  present  back  and  then  if 
you're  so  anxious  to  go — Go  I  " 


236  BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE 

"  Miss  Hoffman,  I  never  gave  you  a  present 
m  my  life,"  Jeff  protested. 

"  You  did !  "  sobbed  Ellinor.  She  turned  upon 
him,  stamping  her  foot.  "  You  said,  when  you 
gave  it  to  me,  that  you  hoped  it  would  bring  me 
good  luck.  And  you've  forgotten !  You'd  better 
keep  a  list !  Turn  your  head  away,  I  tell  you !  " 
She  sank  down  on  the  bench. 

Confused,  mazed,  bewildered,  Jeff  obeyed  her. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet.  She  was  laughing, 
blushing,  glowing.  In  her  hand  was  the  little 
gold  chain. 

"  Now,  you  may  look.  Hold  out  your  hand, 
sir!" 

Jeff's  mind  was  whirling;  he  held  out  his  hand. 
She  laid  a  little  gold  locket  in  his  palm.  It  was 
warm,  that  little  locket. 

"  I  have  never  seen  this  locket  before  in  my 
life!"  gasped  Jeff. 

"Open  it!" 

He  opened  it.  The  little  eohippus  glared  up  at 
him. 

"  Ellinor  I— Charley  Gibson!  " 

"Tobe!    Jefil— Jamie!" 

The  little  eohippus  stared  unwinking  from  the 
grass. 

THE  BEGINNING 


"The  Books  You  Like  to  Read 
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There  Are  Two  Sides 
to  Everything — 

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the  successes  by  prominent  writers  of 
the  day  which  is  printed  on  the  back  of 
every  Grosset  &  Dunlap  book  wrapper. 

You  will  find  more  than  five  hundred 
titles  to  choose  from — books  for  every 
mood  and  every  taste  and  every  pocket- 
book. 

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EMERSON    HOUGH'S    NOVELS 

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THE  COVERED  WAGON 

An  epic  story  of  the  Great  West  from  which  the  fam 
ous  picture  was  made. 

THE  WAY  OF  A  MAN 

A  colorful  romance  of   the  pioneer  West  before  the 
Civil  War. 

THE  SAGEBRUSHER 

An  Eastern  girl  answers  a  matrimonial  ad.  and  goes  out 
West  in  the  hills  of  Montana  to  find  her  mate. 

THE  WAY  OUT 

A  romance  of  the  feud  districtof  the  Cumberland  country. 

THE  BROKEN  GATE 

A  story  of  broken  social  conventions  and  of  a  woman's 
determination  to  put  the  past  behind  her. 

THE  WAY  TO  THE  WEST 

Daniel  Boone,  Davy  Crockett  and  Kit  Carson  figure  in 
this  story  of  the  opening  of  the  West. 

HEART'S  DESIRE 

The  story  of  what  happens  when  the  railroad  came  to  a 
little  settlement  in  the  far  West 

THE  PURCHASE  PRICE 

A  story  of  Kentucky  during  the  days  after  the  American 
Revolution. 

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THE  BARON  OF  DIAMOND  TAIL 

The  Elk  Mountain  Cattle  Co.  had  not  paid  a  dividend  in  years ; 
so  Edgar  Barrett,  fresh  from  the  navy,  was  sent  West  to  see  what 
was  wrong  at  the  ranch.  The  tale  of  this  tenderfoot  outwitting  the 
buckaroos  at  their  own  play  will  sweep  you  into  the  action  of  this 
salient  western  novel. 

THE  BONDBOY 

Joe  Newbolt,  bound  out  by  force  of  family  conditions  to  work  for 
a  number  of  years,  is  accused  of  murder  and  circumstances  are 
against  him.  His  mouth  is  sealed;  he  cannot,  as  a  gentleman,  utter 
the  words  that  would  clear  him.  A  dramatic,  romantic  tale  of  intense 
interest. 

CLAIM  NUMBER  ONE 

Dr.  :  Warren  Slavens  drew  claim  number  one,  which  entitled  him 
to  first  choice  of  rich  lands  on  an  Indian  reservation  in  Wyoming.  It 
meant  a  fortune  ;  but  before  he  established  his  ownership  he  had  a 
hard  battle  with  crooks  and  politicians. 

THE  DUKE  OF  CHIMNEY  BUTTE 

When  Jerry  Lambert,  "the  Duke,"  attempts  to  safeguard  the 
cattle  ranch  of  Vesta  Philbrook  from  thieving  neighbors,  his  work  is 
appallingly  handicapped  because  of  Grace  Kerr,  one  of  the  chief  agi 
tators,  ana  a  deadlyenemy  of  Vesta's.  A  stirringtale  of  brave  deeds, 
gun-play  and  a  love  that  shines  above  all. 

THE  FLOCKMASTER  OF  POISON  CREEK 

John  Mackenzie  trod  the  trail  from  Jasper  to  the  great  sheep 
country  where  fortunes  were  being  made  by  the  flock-masters. 
Shepherding  was  not  a  peaceful  pursuit  in  those  bygone  days.  Ad 
venture  met  him  at  every  turn — there  is  a  girl  of  course — men  fight 
their  best  fights  for  a  woman— it  is  an  epic  of  the  sheeplands. 

THE  LAND  OF  LAST  CHANCE 

Jim  Timberlake  and  Capt.  David  Scott  waited  with  restless 
thousands  on  the  Oklahoma  line  for  the  signal  to  dash  across  the 
border.  How  the  city  of  Victory  arose  overnight  on  the  plains,  how 
people  savagely  defended  their  claims  against  the  "sooners;  "  how 
good  men  and  bad  played  politics,  makes  a  strong  story  of  growth 
and  American  initiative. 

TRAIL'S  END 

Ascalon  was  the  end  of  the  trail  for  thirsty  cowboys  who  gave 
vent  to  their  pent-up  feelings  without  restraint.  Calvin  Morgan  was 
not  concerned  with  its  wickedness  until  Seth  Craddock's  malevolence 
directed  itself  against  him.  He  did  not  emerge  from  the  maelstrom 
nntil  he  had  obliterated  every  vestige  of  lawlessness,  and  assured 
himself  of  the  safety  of  a  certain  dark-eyed  girl. 

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JACKSON  GREGORY'S  NOVELS 

May  he  Kid  wfcersvsr  boofcs  ars  told.      Art  for  Sresset  4  Dimly'*  llrt. 

THE  EVERLASTING  WHISPER 

The  story  of  a  strong  man's  struggle  against  savage  nature  and  human. 
ky,  and  of  a  beautiful  girl  s  regeneration  from  a  spoiled  child  of  wealth  itto 

•  courageous  strong-willed  woman. 

DESERT  VALLEY 

A  college  professor  sets  out  with  his  daughter  to  find  gold.     They  meet 

•  rancher  who  Loses  his  heart,  and  become  involved  in  a  feud.    An  intensely 
exciting  story. 

MAN  TO  MAN 

Encircled  with  enemies,  distrusted,  Steve  defends  his  rights.  How  he 
woo  his  game  and  the  girl  he  loved  is  the  story  filled  wttb  breathless 
situations.  v 

THE  BELLS  OF  SAN  JUAN 

Dr.  Virginia  Page  is  forced  to  go  with  the  sheriff  on  a  night  journey 
into  the  strongholds  of  a  lawless  band.  Thrills  and  excitement  sweep  die 
reader  along  to  the  end. 

JUDITH  OF  BLUE  LAKE  RANCH 

Judith  Sanford  part  owner  of  a  cattle  ranch  realizes  she  is  beingrobbed 
by  her  foreman.  How,  with  the  help  of  Bud  Lee,  she  checkmates  Trevor's 
scheme  makes  fascinating  reading. 

THE  SHORT  CUT 

Wayne  is  suspected  of  killing  his  brother  after  a  violent  quarrel.  Finan 
cial  complication*,  villains,  a  horse-race  and  beautiful  Wanda,  all  go  to  make 
op  a  thrilling  romance. 

THE  JOYOUS  TROUBLE  MAKER 

A  reporter  sets  up  housekeeping  close  to  Beatrice's  Ranch  much  to  her 
chagrin.  There  is  "  another  man  "  who  complicates  matters,  but  all  turn* 
out  as  it  should  in  this  tale  of  romance  and  adventure. 

SIX  FEET  FOUR 

Beatrice  Waverly  is  robbed  of  $5.000  and  suspicion  fasten*  upon  Buck 
Thornton,  but  she  soon  realizes  he  is  not  guilty.  Intensely  Mi-ihng,  here  is  • 
real  story  of  the  Great  Far  West 

WOLF  BREED 

No  Luck  Drennan  had  grown  hard  through  loss  of  faith  in  men  he  had 
trusted.  A  woman  hater  and  sharp  of  tongue,  be  finds  a  match  in  Ygerne 
whose  clever  fencing  wins  the  admiration  and  love  of  the  "  Lone  Wolf." 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,        PUBLISHERS,        NEW  YORK 


PETER  B.  KYNE'S  NOVELS 

•ay  ba  had  wherever  books  are  told.       Ash  for  Grotset  ft  DunUp'i  Itet 

THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

When  two  strong  men  clash  and  the  under-dog  has  Irish 
blood  in  his  veins — there's  a  tale  that  Kyne  can  tell !  And 
"  the  girl "  is  also  very  much  in  evidence. 

KINDRED  OF  THE  DUST 

Donald  McKay,  son  of  Hector  McKay,  millionaire  lum 
ber  king,  falls  in  love  with  "  Nan  of  the  Sawdust  Pile,"  a 
charming  girl  who  has  been  ostracized  by  her  townsfolk. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

The  fight  of  the  Cardigans,  father  and  son,  to  hold  the 
Valley  of  the  Giants  against  treachery.  The  reader  finishes 
with  a  sense  of  having  lived  with  big  men  and  women  In  a 
big  country. 

GAPPY  RICKS 

The  story  of  old  Gappy  Ricks  and  of  Matt  Peasley,  the 
boy  he  tried  to  break  because  he  knew  the  acid  test  was 
good  for  his  soul. 

WEBSTER:   MAN'S  MAN 

In  a  little  Jim  Crow  Republic  in  Central  America,  a  snan 
and  a  woman,  hailing  from  the  "  States,"  met  up  with  a 
revolution  and  for  a  while  adventures  and  excitement  came 
so  thick  and  fast  that  their  love  affair  had  to  wait  for  a  lull 
in  the  game. 

CAPTAIN  SCRAGGS 

This  sea  yarn  recounts  the  adventures  of  three  rapscal 
lion  sea-faring  men — a  Captain  Scraggs,  owner  of  the  green 
vegetable  freighter  Maggie,  Gibney  the  mate  and  McGuff- 
cey  the  engineer. 

THE  LONG  CHANCE 

A  story  fresh  from  the  heart  of  the  West,  of  San  Pasqual, 
a  sun-baked  desert  town,  of  Harley  P.  Hennage,  the  best 
gambler,  the  best  and  worst  man  of  San  Pasqual  and  of 
lovely  Donna. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,        PUBLISHERS,        NEW  YORK 


EDGAR    RICE   BURROUGH'S 
NOVELS 

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TARZAN  AND  THE  GOLDEN  LION 

A  tale  of  the  African  wilderness  which  appeals  to  all  readers 
of  fiction. 

TARZAN  THE  TERRIBLE 

Further  thrilling  adventures  of  Tarzan  while  seeking  his  wife 
in  Africa. 

TARZAN  THE  UNTAMED 

Tells  of  Tarzan's  return  to  the  life  of  the  ape-man  in  seeking 
vengeance  for  the  loss  of  his  wife  and  home. 

JUNGLE  TALES  OF  TARZAN 

Records  the  many  wonderful  exploits  by  which  Tarzan  proves 
bis  right  to  ape  kingship. 

AT  THE  EARTH'S  CORE 

An  astonishing  series  of  adventures  in  a  world  located  inside 
of  the  Earth. 

THE  MUCKER 

The  story  of  Billy  Byrne — as  extraordinary  a  character  as  the 
famous  Tarzan. 

A  PRINCESS  OF  MARS 

_  Forty-three  million  miles  from  the  earth — a  succession  of  the 
wierd«st  and  most  astounding  adventures  in  fiction. 

THE  GODS  OF  MARS 

i     John  Carter's  adventures  on  Mars,  where  he  fights  the  fero 
cious  "plant  men,"  and  defies  Issus,  the  Goddess  of  Death. 

THE  WARLORD  OF  MARS 

Old  acquaintances,  made  in  two  other  stories,  reappear,  Tars 
Tarkas,  Tardos  Mors  and  others. 

THUVIA,  MAID  OF  MARS 

The  story  centers  around  the  adventures  of  Carthoris,  the  son 
of  John  Carter  and  Thuvia,  daughter  of  a  Martian  Emperor. 

THE  CHESSMEN  OF  MARS 

The  adventures  of  Princess  Tara  in  the  land  of  headleas  men, 
creatures  with  the  power  of  detaching  their  heads  from  their 
bodies  and  replacing  them  at  will.  

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ZANE   GREY'S   NOVELS 

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TO  THE  LAST  MAN 

THE  MYSTERIOUS  RIDER 

THE  MAN  OF  THE  FOREST 

THE  DESERT  OF  WHEAT 

THE  U.  P.  TRAIL 

WILDFIRE 

THE  BORDER  LEGION 

THE  RAINBOW  TRAIL 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  THE  DESERT 

RIDERS  OF  THE  PURPLE  SAGE 

THE  LIGHT  OF  WESTERN  STARS 

THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLAINSMEN 

THE  LONE  STAR  RANGER 

DESERT  GOLD 

BETTY  ZANE 

*      *      *      *      •      *      * 
LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS 

The  life  story  of  "  Buffalo  Bill "  by  his  sister  Helen  Cody 
Wetmore,  with  Foreword  and  conclusion  by  Zane  Grey. 

ZANE  GREY'S  BOOKS  FOR  BOYS 

KEN  WARD  IN  THE  JUNGLE 
THE  YOUNG  LION  HUNTER 
THE  YOUNG  FORESTER 

THE  YOUNG  PITCHER 
THE  SHORT  STOP 

THE  RED-HEADED  OUTFIELD  AND  OTHER 
BASEBALL  STORIES 

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JAMES  OLIVER  CURWOOD'S 

STORIES  OF  ADVENTURE 

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THE  COUNTRY  BEYOND 

THE  FLAMING  FOREST 

THE  VALLEY  OF  SILENT  MEN 

THE  RIVER'S  END 

THE  GOLDEN  SNARE 

NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

KAZAN 

BAREE,  SON  OF  KAZAN 

THE  COURAGE  OF  CAPTAIN  PLUM 

THE  DANGER  TRAIL 

THE  HUNTED  WOMAN 

THE  FLOWER  OF  THE  NORTH 

THE  GRIZZLY  KING 

ISOBEL 

THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

THE  GOLD  HUNTERS 

THE  COURAGE  OF  MARGE  O'DOONE 

BACK  TO  GOD'S  COUNTRY 


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NOVELS  OF  FRONTIER  LIFE 

WILLIAM    MAC  LEOD    RAINE 


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I 


BIG-TOWN  ROUND-UP,  THE 

BRAND  BLOTTERS 

BUCKY  O'CONNOR 

CROOKED  TRAILS  AND  STRAIGHT 

DAUGHTER  OF  THE  DONS,  A 

GUNSIGHT  PASS 

HIGHGRADER,  THE 

MAN  FOUR-SQUARE,  A 

MAN-SIZE 

MAVERICKS 

OH,  YOU  TEX  ! 

PIRATE  OF  PANAMA,  THE 

RIDGWAY  OF  MONTANA 

SHERIFF'S  SON,  THE 

STEVE  YEAGER 

TANGLED  TRAILS 

TEXAS  RANGER,  A 

VISION  SPLENDID,  THg 

WYOMING 

YUKON  TRAIL,  THE 

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ADVENTURE 
BURNING  DAYLIGHT 
CALL  OF  THE  WILD,  THE 
DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SNOWS,  A' 


JERRY,  OF  THE  ISLANDS 

JOHN  BARLEYCORN 

LITTLE  LADY  OF  THE  BIG  HOUSE 

MARTIN  EDEN 

MICHAEL,  BROTHER  OF  JERRY 

MUTINY  OF  THE  ELSINORE,  THE 

NIGHT  BORN.  THE 

SEA  WOLF,  THE 

SMOKE  BELLEW 

SON  OF  THE  WOLF.  THE 

STAR  ROVER,  THE 

VALLEY  OF  THE  MOON.  THE 

WHITE  FANG 

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CASEY  RYAN 

CHIP  OF  THE  FLYING  U 

COW-COUNTRY 

FLYING  U  RANCH 

FLYING  ITS  LAST  STAND,  THE 

GOOD  INDIAN 

GRINGOS,  THE 

HAPPY  FAMILY,  THE 

HER  PRAIRIE  KNIGHT 

HERITAGE  OF  THE  SIOUX.  THE 

LONG  SHADOW,  THE 

LONESOME  TRAIL,  THE 

LOOKOUT  MAN,  THE 

LURE  OF  THE  DIM  TRAILS,  THE 

PHANTOM  HERD,  THE 

QUIRT,  THE 

RANGE  DWELLERS,  THE 

RIM  O'  THE  WORLD 

SKYRIDER 

STARR  OF  THE  DESERT 

THUNDER  BIRD,  THE 

TRAIL  OF  THE  WHITE  MULE,  THE 

UPHILL  CLIMB,  THE 

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BOOTH     TARKINGTON'S 
NOVELS 

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SEVENTEEN.    Illustrated  by  Arthur  William  Brown. 

No  one  but  the  creator  of  Penrod  could  have  portrayed 
the  immortal  young  people  of  this  story.  Ite  humor  is  irre 
sistible  and  reminiscent  of  the  tune  when  the  reader  was 
Seventeen. 

PENROD.    Illustrated  by  Gordon  Grant. 

This  is  a  picture  of  a  boy's  heart,  full  of  the  lovable,  hu 
morous,  tragic  things  which  are  locked  secrets  to  most  older 
folks.  It  is  a  finished,  exquisite  work. 

PENROD  AND  SAM.  Illustrated  by  Worth  Brehm. 

Like  "  Penrod "  and  "  Seventeen,"  this  book  contains 
Borne  remarkable  phases  of  real  boyhood  and  some  of  the  best 
stories  of  juvenile  prankishness  that  have  ever  been  written. 

THE  TURMOIL.    Illustrated  by  C.  E.  Chambers. 

Bibbs  Sheridan  is  a  dreamy,  imaginative  youth,  who  re 
volts  against  his  father's  plans  for  him  to  be  a  servitor  of 
big  business.  The  love  of  a  fine  girl  turns  Bibb's  life  from 
failure  to  success. 

THE  GENTLEMAN  FROM  INDIANA.    Frontispiece. 

A  story  of  love  and  politics, — more  especially  a  picture  of 
a  country  editor's  life  in  Indiana,  but  the  charm  of  the  book 
lies  in  the  love  interest. 

THE  FLIRT.    Illustrated  by  Clarence  F.  Underwood. 

The  "  Flirt,"  the  younger  of  two  sisters,  breaks  one  giri'a 
engagement,  drives  one  man  to  suicide,  causes  the  muider 
of  another,  leads  another  to  lose  his  fortune,  and  in  the  end 
marries  a  stupid  and  unpromising  suitor,  leaving  the  really 
worthy  one  to  marry  her  sister. 

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AH  10  UBRARY 


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